More Than Just a Servant
by sherlockianmuser
Summary: When Arthur is not himself, Merlin can't bear it, and leaving the knights may be the biggest mistake in his life. Ancient myths, old castles and familiar foes all return to haunt both the King and Servant as their lives, and the land of Camelot, are put in danger, and the shape of destiny may be changed... forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Unfortunatly, I don't own Merlin. The TV show belongs to the BBC. I wish I could own it, though... that would be awesome.**

**This is my first Merlin fanfiction (actually my first EVER fanfiction) so I would really appreciate it if I could get some reviews... I would love to improve my writing so much! I hope you enjoy it :D**

* * *

"Merlin is there any soup left?" a blonde haired man called from the log, next to four other men. They all wore silver armour, all polished to an inch of their life, reflecting the flames that crackled and flickered in the dark forest they would temporarily have to call 'home'. The blonde man was scraping the bottom of a wooden bowl that had been emptied of its contents by the hungry man.

The man he was addressing too was a little bit smaller, with scruffy black hair which was as dark as the night sky above them. His pale skin reflected the moons light better than the fire, and managed to stay in its white complexion whilst the five men sitting together on the log had much more colour to their faces. He wore a red neckerchief, dark blue shirt with a brown jacket over, with black trousers and worn, leather boots that had moulded to his feet from years of use. Merlin, as the man had called him, turned round to the blonde figure who waved his bowl around with impatience, and sighed.

"Can I have an answer, Merlin?" The blonde man asked impatiently.

"Um, well... yes, there is food, but I haven't eaten yet so I saved it for my dinner," Merlin finally replied to the man.

"I thought you would have packed your own food, like all the other trips," the man retorted.

"I forgot."

The man sighed.

"Arthur, don't look at me like that, you know what I'm like," Merlin said.

"Merlin," Arthur started. "Of course I know you, and I've known you long enough to know that you should have packed your own food. No food for you," Arthur said, pushing Merlin out of the way of the pot and picked at the last remnants of the soup the servant was saving for himself. It wasn't much, but it satisfied Arthur. The king enjoyed toying with his servant, throwing pillows in his face when he was late, making him do extra work around the palace for him, and insulting him all the time. By the way Merlin responded, with witty remarks and his rebellious streak, Arthur always thought Merlin was taking it lightly, and, in a way, it had strengthened their bond.

He was both wrong and right.

Of course Merlin enjoyed Arthur's company, and that Arthur treated him more as a friend than a lowly servant, but this... this was far enough. Too many nights Merlin had been deprived of sleep from roaming around the woods with Arthur. Too many nights Merlin had been treated like a fool by everyone, even after he saved Camelot from enemy after enemy, all without a word to Arthur, or he'd have his head. Too many times Merlin put his life on the line for Arthur, too many times. Of course, Merlin was willing to save his king, especially now that they were closer than ever before, but at first he trusted the word of a dragon, a dragon who he'd trusted, only to be betrayed and watch Camelot rise in flames as the kingdom burned in the rage and the anger of the supposed 'Great Dragon'. Arthur would never allow his servant – no, his friend – to starve for a joke: he was serious.

Merlin kicked himself for forgetting food for himself as he watched Arthur lick his lips, consuming the last remains of the soup that had made his mouth water with saliva and his stomach churn with hunger. Now he'd be expected to wash and dry the dishes, feed and prepare the horses to settle down as well as put out the fire once the knights had gone to sleep. Merlin couldn't even remember why they were out here in the forest, in the dark and the cold.

"You really should remember to listen to me in the future," the arrogant king said in the servants face. If Arthur hadn't been so blind, he would have noticed the anger in Merlin's eyes at that comment.

"Oh really," Merlin replied.

"Yes, really,"

"So, you expect me to do the rest of my chores on an empty stomach, and survive the next two days while you and the knights selfishly eat the food that I prepare for you," Merlin snapped.

Arthur froze in his place. He'd only meant to joke around, but now the pain in Merlin's eyes had been translated into speech, a speech that made Arthur snap his head up in guilt, but also defiance. What if Merlin was just replying wittingly? He highly doubted it, but Merlin had to be taught a lesson. He couldn't go gallivanting around Camelot doing only the chores he seemed fit whilst relaxing during the day. He may be brave, loyal and the most interesting person Arthur had ever known, but he was also lazy. He needed to be taught a lesson once and for all.

"Very brave Merlin, but learn this and learn this quickly. You cannot just choose which chores you can and can't do, whether you forget or not. I've had those excuses too long now. In future, when we go on hunting trips, or patrols, or we're searching for sorcerers, pack you OWN food!"

Those words stung Merlin. The bitterness, the venom in Arthur's voice told Merlin he wouldn't be winning this battle. If Arthur was really his friend, he would have let him have the last bit of soup, but he didn't. He had to be his arrogant, supercilious self and let Merlin starve for the next few days. Maybe Arthur would crumble, but Merlin couldn't be sure. He lowered his head in defeat as Arthur left him standing by the dirty pottery, and headed towards the horses.

Arthur made his way over to the knights as Merlin slowly walked away into the shadows, the knights' faces looking shocked and disgusted by the way Merlin and Arthur had handled themselves. Most of them were more disgusted in Arthur's actions; Merlin had been more loyal than any of them could ever be, yet Arthur refused him food. They thought they knew their leader better than ever before since his reign began in Camelot, but their hopes and thoughts shattered as Merlin shrunk into himself and continued to obey Arthur as he'd always done. Always a servant.

"What was that for, Arthur?" Gwaine asked the king, his brown hair swaying lightly in the air as the wind blew.

Arthur sighed. He knew this would be coming. "Merlin needed to be taught a lesson."

"What, a lesson to not touch our food and starve? He barely eats as it is," Gwaine retorted.

"No, he needs to know that he can't go around and disobey me all the time."

"If he did listen to you, and stopped being himself, would you like him anymore, or would he be another dispensable servant?" Gwaine questioned.

Arthur looked into Gwaine's eyes which were growing with anger. Gwaine had always been a better friend to Merlin than Arthur, always saving Arthur's life on behalf of Merlin. Since he'd become a knight, his bond with Arthur had grown, and he'd always be willing to lay down his life for Arthur, but now that Merlin had abandoned the group for the dark to save himself from Arthur, their bond was crumbling by the second. It was as if Merlin was leading Arthur to something great, something better than who he was before he met Merlin. Sir Leon often told the knights of how Arthur is a different man to who he was before Merlin arrived and became his servant, and Gwaine looked to both of them for friendship, for encouragement in Arthur and wisdom in Merlin. Gwaine had always thought Merlin would make sure Arthur would never resort to becoming who he was again, but his hopes faded away as soon as the red neckerchief around Merlin's neck became barely visible in the shadows. Arthur was going to pay.

"Look at you, Arthur," Gwaine stated. "I thought you were something different, something new in the line of the Pendragon's, but all I see now is the ways of your father. He treated servants as if they were nothing more than that: servants. If they spoke back to him, they would be punished. If they were late, they would be punished. Any more problems and they'd be fired. He would never think about having one as a friend, or even as a wife should I say, or is Gwen just another maid? Do you order her around when Merlin isn't there?" Gwaine's rage was building higher and higher as he rambled to a guilty Arthur. The other knights stared in shock and horror as Gwaine tore down the emotions inside their king. He was only human, after all.

"I'm sorry," Arthur mumbled.

Gwaine positioned himself comfortably on the log. "Excuse me? A bit louder."

Arthur raised his head. "I'm sorry," he spoke with much more diligence.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry for treating Merlin in that way. I never should have eaten his food or spoke to him like he was nothing, because he isn't. He's my friend, not just my servant. Never just my servant. I would never-"Arthur choked. "I would never wa-want him to feel like he was nothing. I'm sorry Gwaine... I'm so, so sorry for making you feel like I'm an arrogant pig," Arthur stuttered. The cold was bearing down on him, as well as Gwaine's cold eyes which began to ease as he realised his victory had been proclaimed to him.

"Thank you for being honest, Arthur, but do you mind telling Merlin that?" Gwaine suggested.

Arthur looked over at Gwaine again, then returned his gaze to the fire. So many things burn in fire: wood, food, houses... people. He felt as if he were a raging fire that had consumed Merlin, leaving him a burnt, charred person of who he was supposed to be. He felt as if his flames had grown, like the knights and the trees should be burning with him, but they were somehow protected. It was only Merlin that had burned. Gwaine was the water, the cool liquid that put out the fire, dampening the wood, making it impossible for the fire to burn again with the same wood. Arthur just needed to have some of his own water to cool Merlin, so that he could stop burning as the fire continued to rage on him. That was how Arthur felt: he was the fire, Merlin was the victim, and Gwaine was the water, the saviour. He looked back at Gwaine and the rest of the knights, their faces showing encouragement in Gwaine's words. He nodded then headed out into the shadows where the horses were, and, hopefully, Merlin.

He treaded carefully in the shadows, but made sure he was heard. He didn't want Merlin to be shocked, and try to run from Arthur. "Merlin, I'm sorry. Can I see you please? I want to talk to you, apologise. Merlin?" Arthur called out. He made his way to the horses, and petted them for a few minutes while preparing some form of speech in his head. When Merlin didn't show, Arthur went to the nearby water supply where Merlin might have gone to collect water for the washing up. He wasn't there. In the dark, Arthur couldn't see the ground, which he was searching for clues as to where Merlin had gone, and upturned leaf that would tell him whether he went east or west. If there had been light, Arthur would know.

If there had been light, Arthur wouldn't want to have seen the ground below him at all.

After searching for Merlin for an hour, with no luck, Arthur returned to the camp. All the knights had settled down for the night, all except Elyon. Arthur had first met Elyan whilst trying to save both Gwen and Elyan from Morgause. Little did he realise that Morgana had been working with her all along. It was only until she revealed herself to be an ally with Morgause did Arthur realise she had been in league with Morgause since she returned. Elyan had been a very valuable knight, who was skilled enough to help rescue Arthur's father from Morgana's and Morgause's grasp. It was even more uplifting to know that he was Gwen's brother, and that he could help keep him settled in one place, something Gwen had longed for her brother to do.

Elyan was prodding the ground with a large stick, impatience and tiredness creeping all over his face. Arthur stepped forward and sat down next to Elyon, breaking his trance over the stick. Elyan looked silently at Arthur, then all around the dense clearing they were in. No Merlin.

Arthur sensed Elyan's confusion. "I couldn't find him," Arthur said solemnly.

"I'm sure he'll return in the morning. He may be collecting firewood,"

"Yes, he's probably doing that," Arthur said more to himself than to Elyan. "I'll wait for him, you get some sleep,"

"Thank you, Sire," Elyan said hastily before heading to the ground to sleep.

Arthur chuckled. "It's not Sire, it's Arthur,"

"Oh, sorry Arthur. Good night." Elyan tucked himself under his robe and let his eyelids flutter down into sleep.

Arthur looked back at Elyan and remembered the journey the young man had come through. It must have been so strange for him to settle down after moving around all his life. He couldn't really remember Elyan living in Camelot, or ever visiting Gwen. As he thought about it, Gwen didn't become a maid until about the age of 15 or 16, just a few years younger than Arthur, but the same age as Morgana. She'd proved herself to the king that she was the best young servant in Camelot, and, to make Morgana feel comfortable, he gave her Gwen. They became friends even quicker than Merlin and Arthur, but now that friendship was destroyed as Morgana was consumed by evil and magic. Elyan had been moving around most of his life, and even when their father was executed for use of magic he didn't turn up to say goodbye or comfort Gwen. It puzzled Arthur, but Elyan was an independent man, and refused to have a servant, like most of the knights. It was one of the reasons Arthur respected him.

Arthur waited and waited and waited for Merlin to turn up with more firewood, if Elyon's prediction had been true, but the thin, pale servant didn't show up. Arthur was becoming sleepy by the second, and the firewood was running out. Arthur hoped that Merlin would be alright, and snuffed out the fire's flames, making the air instantly cold around him. He then crawled to a space next to the knights, wrapped his cloak around him, and settled down for the night, praying that Merlin would return in the morning safe and sound.

If only Arthur knew.

* * *

Suddenly, Arthur's shoulders were being shaken violently. His name was being called by different men, all of whom he recognised. There was Sir Leon's voice, defiantly, and Gwaine's too. Elyan's voice was much quieter, but Percival's voice was booming in his ear. He opened his eyes, only to shut them again as bright light dazzled his vision, making him blind. He blinked twice, and his vision cleared, revealing all the knights standing around him, some looking around the area they had settled in during the night.

No Merlin, though.

At that notion, Arthur sat up, and the voices grew silent. Instead of bringing silence, though, they brought the most horrific colours of sound Arthur had ever heard.

As Arthur stood up, screaming raged throughout the woods. It was so loud that it must have been amplified using magic, but so painful and so fearful that it must have been real. It deafened Arthur as he ran, so much so that he couldn't hear his feet stomping on the ground floor, so much so that he couldn't hear the knights' protests as he continued through the forest, so much so that he couldn't hear himself think. How could he think? Then, as he stopped in the thick of the green forest, something chilling changed in the sound and in the air. Pleading. This person, this terrified person, was pleading to whoever was doing this to them. The pleading was so powerful that tears began to stream down Arthur's face. He turned around on the same spot for a few minutes, the knights soon surrounding him. He couldn't hear what they were saying over the pleading, and continued to search for the screaming and the pleading. He came to a northern-easterly direction, and ran at full speed through the dense forest. The knights followed him swiftly, swords at the ready. Then, something deadlier than the screaming and the pleading hit Arthur: laughing. Evil laughter. Female laughter. The laugh grew louder and louder as the pleading and the screaming became more hysterical, more scared, and it send a stabbing pain through Arthur's chest. He knew who was making the pleas, and who was mocking them. He just hoped the faces of those two people were not who he thought they were.

The noises grew louder in Arthur's head, and pounded away in his stomach. His nearly doubled-over in pain as the sounds grew, but he knew he was getting closer to saving the victim. The knights hauled him through the worst of the sound. The ground began to shake, and the sounds began to merge and blur, making Arthur's head hurt. The pain was almost unbearable.

Then, silence fell.

The knights stopped, and so did Arthur. They could finally hear each other again.

"What... was that?" Arthur huffed.

"I-I don't know," Percival spluttered. The sounds had taken the toll on the knights.

They all took deep breathes, and regained their composure. The pain in Arthur's head and chest ceased, and they continued in the direction that the ear-piercing sound had led them on. Arthur managed to lead the knights deeper and deeper into the hospital, to find a large hill in the middle of the forest.

"That's strange," Leon commented. "I've never seen that before."

Arthur and the knights then agreed to check it out. Arthur, Leon and Gwaine took the left side of the hill, Elyan and Percival took the right side. They went silently, always sneaking glances at the ground to check for leaves and sticks which may attract attention. They readied their swords, but didn't manage to ready themselves for what they would see in the next few seconds.

Arthur was the first to see: he saw a man lying on the floor on a flat area, his brown jacket and blue shirt riddled with rips and tears, and stained with blood. His black hair was skewered, ragged, and all over the place, and his red neckerchief was lying abandoned on the floor next to the unconscious man. Arthur knew this man too well.

It was Merlin.

Regret, guilt and fear fled through the air and it became taught in everyone's breath as the king walked painfully over to his servant. After taking two steps, Arthur increased his pace and found himself running to his helpless friend. He reached for Merlin's neckerchief and wiped away some of the blood that covered his face, revealing bruises along his face as well as deep scars which came with the blood. More tears escaped Arthur's eyes.

Merlin was limp, and dangerously cold. He felt as if he'd been outside the whole night. Arthur picked his loyal servant- no, loyal friend- in his arms, and wrapped him tightly, encasing him inside his body. Merlin was so cold, and Arthur was the next best thing to a fire. Arthur silently wept into Merlin as he remembered their last conversation, about how horrible Arthur was to Merlin, and how devastated Merlin looked when he hung his head as Arthur shouted at him. Arthur had never felt so sad in his entire life, not even after his father had died. Uther had never given Arthur so much respect, so much loyalty or as much friendship that Merlin had given him. Merlin had ignored everything a servant should and shouldn't do when it came to acting in front of the royal family, especially Arthur. He'd taught Arthur how to be equal, and Arthur suspected that the people preferred Arthur to Uther: Arthur was a fair and just man, and didn't judge people as easily as Uther did. The only thing he did judge was magic, but, even then, Merlin was having an effect on Arthur when people with magic came into contact with Arthur. Arthur could not lose Merlin.

Then, a groan escaped from Merlin's lips, loud enough to allow Arthur to release Merlin from his grip. He coughed, turned to his side, and blood began to spill out from his mouth.

"Merlin? Are you awake? Please, Merlin, I need you!" Arthur pleaded. Merlin stopped coughing, and returned to his coma-like state. All Arthur wanted was to see his buffoon of a servant smile up at him, make a witty remark and allow Arthur to apologise. The king held onto that thought, hoping to see his servant smile once again. Arthur continued to wipe away the blood around his mouth, when a huge gust of wind sent the knights in all directions around Arthur and Merlin, knocking them unconscious. Then, the woman laughed. Arthur gripped the neckerchief in his hand, stood up straight, and turned around, slowly, to face her.

Morgana. Of course it would be Morgana.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my precious brother," Morgana spat.

"Did you do this to him?"

Morgana cocked her head slightly, and sighed. "Now, now, Arthur, I thought we would be having a brother-sister reunion... I thought we could catch up on all the times we've missed." Morgana smirked at the last sentence.

"Tell me, Morgana! Did you do this to Merlin?" Arthur shouted. He didn't have time for games, and neither did Merlin.

Morgana stared into his eyes, his bright blue eyes. They were like Merlin's, dazzling and beautiful, and, like Merlin's, were filled with fear and desperation. It was strange, the effect Morgana had over people. Instead of her fearing the king, the king feared her, but, then again, they knew each other, and it terrified Arthur that Morgana could change so quickly.

"Morgana, tell me now!" Arthur ordered.

The witch smiled slowly. "Of course I did it, Arthur," she said, walking smoothly towards Arthur and Merlin. "And, you know what the most surprising thing was?"

Arthur stayed frozen in his spot.

"Do you really want to know?" Morgana asked. "The surprising part was, I enjoyed it."

Something inside Arthur died. He'd known for a long time that the old Morgana was gone, but this confirmed it. She _enjoyed_ beating someone who was such a good friend to her in the past. As Morgana approached him, he raised his sword and stood defensively over Merlin. She wasn't going to touch him again.

"Arthur, do you really expect me to be stopped by a mere blade? You've forgotten that I have magic, and there is nothing stopping me from killing you right here,"

"Then why aren't I dead?" Arthur asked, anger and hysteria rising in his voice.

Morgana smiled at him. "I'm so glad you asked." She turned around, and walked around in a slow circle whilst explaining her plan. "You see, Arthur, it's been so long since I've been in control of Camelot. I used war to gain the throne, but, now that everyone I can count on is dead, the only way I can claim the throne is if you stand down as king-"

"Morgana, you should know now that I will never stand down as king," Arthur interrupted.

"You think I don't know that?" Morgana asked, annoyance in her voice. "So, I thought I'd make a bargain with you..." she trailed.

Arthur did not like where this was going.

In a flash, Arthur was knocked back from his position, and to where the knights lay on the floor. His head hurt from the landing, and when he looked up, Morgana was holding Merlin in her hands. His stomach wretched at the image.

"If you want to see Merlin ever again, I expect you to revoke your title," Morgana said, venom stinging in her voice. "But why would you give up your title for him? He's just a servant, isn't he?" Wind grew around the area, and leaves danced and twisted with the wind, forming a tornado-like display around Morgana and Merlin. A bright light grew inside the cluster of leaves, and Arthur covered his eyes with his hand. When he lowered them, Morgana and Merlin had disappeared from the clearing. The leaves settled, but Arthur's did not.

He would save Merlin, no matter what it took.

* * *

**So... what do you think? To be honest, though, if you're reading this comment, I'm happy, because it means you read the story :3 Thank You! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**I didn't expect to get 9 reviews! **_**9 REVIEWS!**_** Thank you so much, I really appreciate them, and have learnt a lot about my writing, especially since it's my first fic and I'm very ambitious in my writing :3. The character portrayal should show through the rest of the story now that the hectic beginning is out of the way.**

**Disclaimer: again, I don't own Merlin. All rights remain to the BBC.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

Gwen was sitting by Arthur's desk, drumming her fingers against the shiny mahogany table. She wondered how many times Arthur may have thrown his sword across the table, curiously eyeing the scratches along the surface of the table where she knew Arthur left his weaponry for Merlin to polish and sharpen after a long day of hunting. Where was Arthur? He should have been home an hour ago. One of the knights had been sent ahead to warn the castle to prepare for the King's early return, claiming something terrible had happened in the woods, and that Arthur would need all the help and comfort he could get. Unfortunately, Sir Leon, the knight who had been sent, refrained from telling Gwen the true nature of the return. She just prayed nothing terrible had happened.

Gwen snapped out of her trance, and removed herself from Arthur's chair. So many different possibilities played out inside her head: what if a deadly magical creature had attacked the group, and had dealt Arthur a mortal blow? What if the horses had been antagonised by something, and had hurt her brother? What if bandits had attacked and had kidnapped Merlin to gain information about Arthur? Would they torture him? Gwen tried desperately hard to push these thoughts out of her head, when a cold image played over and over again in her head.

Merlin and Arthur were lying unconscious on the ground, blood trickling from their noses in a violent scarlet shade, their faces as white as snow. The knights had fallen around them, their armour dented and punctured in different areas around the body, with deadly swords and arrows penetrating deep in through the chain mail that had been cast upon them as protection. They had failed. Above the heads of her husband, her brother and her best friend revealed the face of an enemy. Someone who she used to serve, who she trusted with her life, but who had betrayed her with such ferocity it made her sick. Morgana.

"NO!" Gwen shouted aloud, holding her hands against the temples of her head. Tears fell as the imagery repeated in her head, showing the cold, still faces of the people she loved so much. _Loves, not loved_, Gwen told herself in her head. She would not let nightmares win.

A rogue guard had heard her call of agony, and ran straight into the King's chambers. He found her hunched up tightly in a ball beside Arthur's bed, gently rocking herself, like a child on a battlefield.

"My lady..." The guard called softly in the room.

Gwen looked up to see the guard. He was quite tall, about Arthur's height, and wore the crest of Camelot sewn in Gold upon a blazing red background, hung heavily over long, thick chain mail. For added protection, he wore a large, metal helmet, which seemed to sit awkwardly upon his head, and hid most of his features.

"My lady, are you alright?" The guard asked again, finishing off his line.

Gwen wiped away her tears, and stood up, dusting her purple dress which Arthur had picked out for her as a birthday gift. She wore it most when he was away, remembering the happiness on his face when she showed him her reaction on the day he gave it to her. "I'm fine, thank you. You may leave," she replied courteously.

The guard nodded, reluctantly returning to his duties as he saw how upset the Queen was at the news of trouble regarding her husband.

Gwen took a long, deep breath in through the nose, and exhaled gently through her mouth. She knew Gaius would also be anxious over the return of Merlin and Arthur, if they were to return, so she decided she would go and see him.

Along the journey, she thought of what to say. One small thing could set Gaius off if she mentioned something about Merlin. She remembered how careless the servant was, how he was being constantly late, but always prepared for the punishment. It was one of the things she admired about Merlin, that he was always prepared, especially around Arthur. The King had been under a lot of stress since the council started to pressure him about Morgana, and what she could be doing in the forest at this very moment. They'd been drilling facts and information and petty stories about Morgana and her magic, and how much of a danger she was alive. It was if they had no remorse over the loss of their friend. She was far from dead, but the person she was might as well have been.

She'd also noticed Arthur's strange behaviour over the pressure: he'd been very cold around her, and had given Merlin twice as many jobs so he could have free time to wallow in these thoughts without being cramped and cluttered by items he left lying in his bedroom. Both Gwen and Merlin didn't know how to tell Arthur, but had insisted on telling him somehow. It was ok for Gwen: Arthur loved her with all his heart. It was different for Merlin. Yes, Merlin was his friend, and more loyal to him than any knight, but their relationship was different. It was as if Merlin didn't trust Arthur enough to tell him his deepest secrets. Because of this, Arthur had grown worse around Merlin. He'd complained to him about being late more than ever, and never came back to Merlin's quirky remarks. Also, when Merlin told Arthur about the job increase, Arthur had told him that he 'was just a servant', nothing more, nothing less. Merlin had felt so sad when he told Gwen what Arthur had told him, nearly crying as Gwen repeatedly told him that he was more than just a servant: he was Arthur's friend- no, his _best_ friend. Gwen could hardly imagine seeing Arthur without Merlin, or Merlin without Arthur. They were inseparable, two sides of the same coin.

Gwen continued to walk mechanically towards Gaius' chambers, passing numerous guards and servants, all hastily preparing for the King's return. Food was being prepared for dinner, sheets were being washed for the King's bed, and the castle was generally being cleaned and tidied before Arthur would return home. Gwen smiled at each servant who passed, knowing them more as friends than as servants. She did work with them for most of her life, after all.

She took her final steps towards the old wooden doors that shielded Gaius' chambers, and knocked tentatively against the framework. After a few seconds, she heard muffled footsteps grow closer to the door.

"Ah, Gwen, what can I do for you?" Gaius said, his face lighting up at the promise of company.

Gwen smiled. "Just a chat, thank you."

Gaius moved the side of the door, allowing Gwen to walk into the physician's work room. As soon as Gaius shut the door, Gwen immediately drew her gaze to Merlin's room: the door had been left widely open, revealing an organised, clean bedroom, something Merlin never had the time to do.

"It seems you've been cleaning," Gwen said.

"Yes, I have. With the news of Arthur's early return, and the state both Arthur and Merlin are in, I felt that I should relieve Merlin of one burden off his shoulders when he returns," Gaius explained.

"You're so good to him. You treat him more like a son than a ward," Gwen said, keeping her hands clasped together at the memories of both Morgana's and Uther's relationship, and how both their hatred fuelled the fire in the fight against magic, both for and against. She wished their relationship could have been more like Merlin's and Gaius'.

"Thank you Gwen. I promised his mother that I would look after him, and... well, no one can truly hate Merlin when you get to know him..." Gaius trailed.

Silence fell between the two, and unspoken fears lingered in the air. Gwen moved herself over to a bench by the window, the afternoon sun beaming down through the glass, warming her skin.

"Gaius, I'm worried about Arthur, and Elyan, and Merlin, and, well, everyone on the trip. I don't know why, but I think something terrible has happened, more than what Sir Leon was letting on," Gwen burst. "Why didn't he tell us the whole truth?"

Gaius breathed out heavily. "He told me that Arthur wanted to tell you and me privately about what had happened before he announced it to the council. All Sir Leon was doing was respecting his wishes," Gaius informed to her.

Gwen smiled in agreement. Of course Arthur would have wanted to tell her; she was his wife, after all, and Gaius had treated Arthur since he was a boy. He'd been a trusted physician for the royal family since before Arthur was born; of course Arthur would confide in him as well. But then, she thought, what if something had happened to Merlin? Again, she pushed the thought outside her head.

"Do you think anything may have happened to them?" Gwen mumbled.

Gaius paused. "I'm not too sure. Sir Leon brought news of something terrible happening in the forest, but we can't be sure how terrible until Arthur returns." Gaius walked slowly, and sat carefully next to Gwen on the bench. "We'll wait and see," Gaius comforted, holding Gwen in his arms as troubles ran round and round her head.

"Yes, we'll wait and see."

* * *

Darkness. A black, empty space was all he could see. His mind felt so cold and weak that all he could manage was his own voice telling him in muffles to 'wake up'. He felt so numb, like he was floating in space, with the stars that watched him so keenly at night. Tonight, though, they had all been put out, and were not there to guide him home. Home. Where was that exactly? Was it east, or west? Which way was east and which way was west? He couldn't tell.

Then, his voice grew louder, and more determined. The word home had sent his head into a state of frenzy, although he couldn't particularly tell; if he had been able to tell, he would have been writhing in pain. The voice pulled at him, nagged at his conscious to wake up, to see the world around him, and go home. White spots appeared in his vision, and light poured into his mind. _No, not the light, I can't go_, he thought to himself, taking full control of his thoughts. It was only until a rocky backdrop started to fade into the image he saw that he knew he wasn't dead: he was very much alive. The bright veil faded, opening up a world that was dank and dark. Along the rigid stone walls grew moss and weeds, the whole room glistening with damp dew from the years of cold air circulating the room, never letting the moisture out.

Merlin examined himself before letting go of his mind, checking to see what had become of him: he had bruises along his arm, blackened with a hint of blue seeping through from behind the dark areas which took up most of his skin. His blue shirt was dirty, and had a few rips in the fabric. When Merlin moved his stiff arms to open the tears, Merlin wished he hadn't; long, deep gashes ran along his stomach, each covered with coagulated blood which had dried to become dark brown. Red, fresh blood oozed out the wounds when he prodded them, but, strangely, Merlin hadn't felt any pain during his check over. _Ah_, Merlin realised. It was his magic. Maybe his wounds were too unbearable for any mortal to withstand, but Merlin was continually grateful for his magic. He didn't know how long his magic would fare against the pain, but Merlin took the time to gather his energy.

He tried to remember what had happened to him, but all he could remember was a black, green and red haze of pain and torture. He tried hard not to remember after that.

He glanced upwards, and saw multiple metal bars caging him from the dark corridor that lay opposite him. The place looked vaguely familiar to Camelot's dungeons, but, then again, Camelot's were far cleaner, and was heavily guarded with bright orange torches providing both prisoners and guards with warmth and light. This place had neither. The only light Merlin was giving was from a small barred window that seemed too high to reach.

Suddenly, Merlin could hear a crack of a door opening from far away, and the faintest echo of footsteps approaching him. It was Morgana. He remembered now: Merlin had been down by the small lake to fetch water for the horses, the words Arthur said to him left heavily imprinted on his mind. His magic was all over the place, mixing with his emotions which were confusing Merlin more than he should have cared. Arthur had never treated him like that, ever, and that troubled Merlin. Everything he'd built with Arthur had crumbled. He was so sure it was the pressure from the council, but Merlin started to wonder whether it was him. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the dark figure watching him from behind one of the trees. It took one flash of gold from her eyes to subdue Merlin into unconsciousness.

Merlin awoke then to find bright sunlight glow a shade of green as it filtered through the dense canopy of the forest. Morgana, dark and seductive with her deep black hair, which she had fashioned to create green streaks in her locks, and her beautiful black dress. She glared at the warlock, becoming suddenly interested as he fluttered his eyelids at the light of day.

"You're finally awake then," she said dryly.

"Good morning, Morgana. Long time no see," Merlin retorted.

"Still as brave as ever then, I see. Are you still as loyal to Arthur?" She said. A mocking tone almost showed through as she cocked her head at the man who once used to be her friend.

"Always have and always will be," he replied bravely.

"Really?" Morgana said sarcastically. She turned away from Merlin, hiding her grin. "Is that why you two fell out then?"

Merlin gasped. "H-how did you—"

"You can't hide anything from me, Merlin. I saw the whole thing." Morgana turned round to face Merlin. She walked towards him, their eyes locked. Merlin sensed magic as she drew nearer, and every fibre of his being told him to look away from her eyes, but.. those eyes, those dazzling eyes. The rich green colour in her irises matched the forest around her, and the bore down into Merlin's own bright blue eyes. They both shone as brightly as their magic, and they connected. Then, Morgana's eyes flashed gold.

Something happened inside Merlin. It twisted inside his mind and created images, feelings and illusions that ceased to fade from his mind. He could have been writhing on the floor for months, and he wouldn't have been able to tell. Morgana had crouched down next to him, and whispered words that made it so much worse; 'if you don't work with me, I'll kill your mother', 'if you don't co-operate, Gaius won't see tomorrow', 'if you don't surrender to me, Arthur and Gwen will become insane and never look at each other the same again'. Merlin tried to so hard to stop the images, but the longer he closed his eyes, the worse they became.

He started to see his mother lying too still along the kitchen floor, blood pouring from her nose and mouth, a knife lodged deeply in her stomach. A flash, and the scene changed. Gaius' chambers. Gaius was fumbling over different objects in the dark room, clutching his stomach, wrenching in pain. He fell like a dropped rag doll to the floor, just seconds before the sun rose up along Camelot. Another flash, and Merlin was staring down at Arthur and Gwen. It was strange. They were looking at each other like maniacal killers, shaking with violence and rage as they passed each other down a corridor. The outcomes repeated over and over again in his head until he could no longer contain his pain. He screamed in horror, but the images got stranger and weirder and scarier. He screamed louder, but no one could hear him. He begged Morgana to stop, but she didn't. There was a sharp pain along his stomach, and horrific throbbing throughout his body. What was happening to him? It felt like forever before Morgana released him, but the pain was too much. As soon as Morgana released him, his magic came to his aid, knocking him out from the world.

It was after that did Merlin wake again, and now she was returning. The warlock prepared himself for what was to come.

The light revealed Morgana's figure, just the same and just as menacing as Merlin remembered.

"Sleep well?" She asked.

Merlin grimaced. "I did, thanks. I suppose I have you to thank,"

"Don't flatter me, Merlin. I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly," she explained, a hard tone in her voice.

Merlin sat himself up, a flash of pain rising from his stomach. His magic was fading. "I'm listening."

Morgana grabbed onto the rusty bars of the cell. "You remember how Uther's reign made me feel a few years ago. I'd always hated to see innocent people be executed in front of a crowd, but when I found out I was one of them, I had never felt so terrified in all my life.

"Arthur's no different. He continues to follow in his father's footsteps, ordering innocent sorcerer's to have their lives taken away because they practise magic. I want that world to end. I want to live in a world where magic is free, where I can walk in Camelot without being feared and hated by the people. I want to lead Camelot into this glory, but only when Arthur falls. Only then can I take away the law that sets magic apart from the world.

"I saw your reaction every time someone was put to death. You felt like me, horrified and disappointed. Your beloved King continues to make the wrong decision, but you can't do anything. I know you hate magic too, Merlin, but you hate innocent lives being taken. If you help me, then magic will be returned and no one will have to die. Do you see what the future could hold?"

Merlin stared in shock at Morgana's monologue. She'd seen, but she hadn't observed. If she'd looked closer, she would see why Merlin hated sorcerer's being put to death over nothing. It was because they were one of his own kind too; his kin. "Arthur will bring peace to Camelot, not you. You're thinking too short term, Morgana, and you always have done. Arthur will bring peace for both non-magical and magical beings, but people like you only fuel his hatred. I won't help you in the future you want, because it won't happen in the way you perceive it," Merlin said passionately.

Morgana stepped back into the shadows. "Well then, my friend, you best prepare yourself for the consequences," she said hoarsely before turning on her heels and walking back the way she came. Faster, this time.

Merlin winced in pain and clutched his stomach. _I've got to get out of here_, Merlin thought to himself as the veil of protective magic began to dissipate more with each passing second.

* * *

Arthur trudged through the forest in silence. Gwaine, Elyan and Percival failed to reach through to the King, who was coping dreadfully with the events that unfolded during the hunting trip. A hunting trip: that was all that it took for Morgana to take Merlin. Arthur couldn't comprehend what Morgana might be doing to Merlin at the moment. She may be torturing him, physically or mentally... or both. She might be changing him as a person, using her evil magic to corrupt him just as it did her. She might be starving him, making him as weak as possible so that Arthur would give in and surrender Camelot to her. He didn't know what to do.

Arthur dragged his sword through the foliage, letting the tip of the blade drag across the muddy path behind him. He didn't care how dirty it would get, even if Merlin wouldn't be there to polish it clean. In fact, he would clean it himself. He felt incapacitated, only just able to put one foot in front of the other as he continued to march through the forest. He didn't care that his trousers were being torn by sharp needles from plants. He would repair them himself.

The knights were becoming paranoid: Gwaine had tried to calm Arthur down by gently touching his shoulder, the usual way the knight's comforted each other. Instead, Arthur jittered away from Gwaine's touch, and moved two metres away from the men he was supposed to lead. Percival had agreed on keeping an eye on Arthur during their journey whilst Gwaine and Elyan tried to gather an explanation on what might have happened when they were unconscious whilst pulling the horses through the horses. None of them felt well enough to ride. Arthur sure wasn't going to tell them.

"Something bad must have happened to make Arthur react like this," Gwaine suggested.

"Well, I can't really remember what happened. The last this I saw was Merlin asleep on the ground, Arthur by his side. I hope he wasn't too greatly wounded," Elyan said, keeping his voice low in case Arthur heard their conversation as his horse tried to nuzzle his noise next to Elyan's shoulder.

Gwaine looked into the ground. "What's your opinion on what I said to Arthur?"

Elyon stopped. "Why?"

"Just curious,"

"I agree with what you said. Arthur's head has been all over the place, but what he did to Merlin was not Arthur at all. I don't want that version of Arthur around Gwen, or anyone, in fact," Elyan assured Gwaine.

"Phew. For a moment there, I thought I was a bit too harsh on him,"

"Gwaine, what you said may help Arthur climb back to his feet. Once he realises how he's been acting, he can stop, and he can go back to being Arthur again," Elyan said again to Gwaine. "Come on, we're losing Arthur and Percival."

Further off into the distance, Percival was having to increase his pace to keep up with Arthur. The King had suddenly decided that he didn't want to be near anyone until he reached the gates of Camelot. Percival's fast walk turned into a slow jog, becoming faster and faster as the King's figure began to dip into the horizon. In the end, Percival realised what Arthur wanted: he wanted to be alone. He wanted time and space to think about the events of the past few days before reaching Camelot. Everyone would be devastated with the news. Gaius thinks of Merlin as more of a son than a ward, and Gwen and Merlin had been friends almost immediately when they first met each other in Camelot. Not to mention the servants of the palace would miss him. He always brought a smile to their faces whenever Uther or Arthur, or anyone had treated them badly. If they had food problems, Merlin would always find a way to sneak them something.

What about Hunith? She had a right to know if her son was missing, hadn't she? _Maybe I should send for her... tell her what happened_, Arthur thought to himself, slowing down when he realised Percival had stopped following him. He knew he was only watching out for him, but he needed to think alone. Like what was he going to say to Gwen and Gaius? He'd told Sir Leon to not tell anyone, but that he wanted Gwen and Gaius to know first before he announced it to court for discussion. He knew he would need their council first. Before, whenever Camelot was on the brink of war and the council had applied pressure on Arthur, Merlin had been there to make the meetings bearable, and showed Arthur great wisdom for a servant when Arthur doubted the choices he'd made. Now Merlin was gone, and he had to make a choice: Merlin for Camelot, or Camelot for Merlin. Either way, Arthur would lose.

What had Arthur been doing? For over a month, now, the council had been pressurising him, pressing dangerous matters into his hands, and for a over a month, now, he'd been treating the people around him like he was their superior, and that they were nothing compared to him. He'd lost touch in who he was, what he stoof for - fairness and equality.

As this epiphany took hold of Arthur's concentration and interest, the gleaming white tower's of the castle of Camelot appeared over the horizon. There was only one clearing, one small forest and the villages surrounding the castle that blocked the gates of Camelot from Arthur, and his time alone was falling short.

Arthur's feet plodded mechanically across the clearing that he'd fought the Great Dragon against a few years ago. He hadn't been awake to see the creature fly away to die, but Merlin had told him that he'd given it the mortal blow. Arthur had never been so relieved to see someone alive that night after witnessing the dragon burn down innocent peasants and loyal knights that night. Somehow, Merlin had survived and, somehow, he would continue to survive. That was the hope he clung to as he neared the city walls.

Those next few minutes felt like a dream: the people of Camelot all moved about in a hazy blur, the smell of food, mud and straw lingering in his nose. The laughter of children trilled in his ears, their mother's calling them to behave: "the King is walking through the town!" The rest of the street, however, was filling with cheers. He snapped himself out, and gave a nod, a smile and a wave to various subjects, telling them that everything was fine using nothing but his body. They all fell for his lying gestures. Further cheers behind him let him know that the knights had entered the city.

He walked over the drawbridge before the knights could catch him up, passing numerous guards who let him enter without hesitation as usual. He continued his pace until he reached the courtyard, a very concerned Gwen rushing forward faster than ever before towards him.

Arthur smiled. Gwen was here, and Gwen was safe. He hadn't completely failed in protecting his loved ones.

Gwen wrapped her arms tightly around Arthur, her smell intoxicating Arthur into his own piece of heaven. He held her tightly, keeping her body next to his. Only Gwen could make Arthur feel happy to be home at this moment in time. Gwen moved her head in front of Arthur's, and leaned in for a gentle, long kiss. _Only Gwen_, he mused. Arthur's wife pulled away from their kiss, and smiled as he caught Arthur staring in her eyes like it had been forever since he last saw her.

"It's so good to see you," Gwen whispered.

"It's good to see you too."

"Let's go inside. Sir Leon told Gaius and I that you had something to tell us?"

Arthur drew in a quick breath. In just a few moments, he would be forced to relive the horror. He would have to witness the happiness on Gwen's face diminish into sadness and shock. _Let's just get this over and done with, Arthur_, he told himself as Gwen directed him to Gaius' chambers across the courtyard.

Gaius had left the door open for both Gwen and Arthur, and had laid three pieces of bread on the table where Merlin had usually eaten dinner with Gaius after his days work was done. Arthur had caught Merlin once too often at that table eating breakfast late or dinner early when he should have been waking Arthur up or preparing his bed. Gaius was perched nervously by the table, facing the doorway.

"Sire, it's good to see you back," the physician greeted him.

"Thank you Gaius. You don't have to call me 'Sire'," Arthur replied.

Arthur pulled the bench out for Gwen, holding her hand. He sat himself down next to her, and prepared himself for... everything.

"Do you want to fill in the gaps Sir Leon left us?" Gaius started.

"Um... yes. The-the thing is, Gaius... it... it all started when..."

"Arthur? Are you alright" Gwen asked.

Gaius leaned forward. "If you don't want to talk about this, you don't have to."

"No. No, I have to tell you. It's... it's important..." Arthur trailed, shaking his head. The king started again, trying to think of different ways to word it, but nothing felt right.

Then, Gaius' eyes grew wide, and his breath began to tremble, and Arthur knew: Gaius had figured it out.

"Arthur..."

"Yes, Gaius?" Arthur said, keeping his eyes away from the old man's face.

"Where is Merlin?"

Arthur stayed silent.

"Arthur. Where is Merlin?" Gaius repeated.

Arthur looked into Gaius' eyes. They were filled with worry over his ward's safety, but they were human, and real. They wanted to know, and only Arthur could tell them.

"Merlin was taken... by Morgana," Arthur started, the witches face still vivid in his mind. "It was my fault. If I hadn't have been too hard on Merlin, maybe he would have been in the safety of the knights, but I was," Arthur continued.

"Arthur, I doubt it was your-"

"It was Gwen. You should have seen him... his face, especially after what I had told him."

"Arthur, what did you tell him?" Gwen asked, her voice becoming hoarse as small tears began to shed down her cheek.

Arthur shook his head. How could he admit it? He wasn't himself at the time. He wasn't the fair and just King he'd grown to be when he said Merlin was just a servant.

"Arthur, it's best to tell people what you're worrying about. A problem shared is a problem halved," Gaius comforted. How was he still holding up? Arthur envied him slightly, but he knew that Gaius was hurting inside.

"It happened last night. Merlin forgot to pack his own food because of all the extra chores I'd given him, and when he tried to save some food for himself, I... I lost myself. I wasn't Arthur anymore. I told him off, too harshly, though. It was as if I wasn't myself at that moment, and he disappeared. It wasn't until the morning that we heard his screams. They were so loud, in so much pain. I think Morgana used magic on him: Merlin would never scream like that except if magic was being used on him..." Arthur relived the moment; Merlin's screams pounded in his head. He imagined Morgana casting some sort of spell on him, something so terrible that it frightened him. _Just my imagination_, he told himself. "When I found him, he was unconscious. There was one moment when he coughed his own blood, but that was it. Morgana stepped out, and threatened to kill Merlin if I didn't remove myself from the throne. Then, she vanished, along with Merlin... I'm so sorry Gaius... if I hadn't been so stressed maybe Merlin would have had a chance."

Gwen sighed. "Arthur. Don't think that this is entirely your fault: the council have been pressuring you for months about sorcerers in Camelot, and Morgana has powerful magic. What if she did something to Merlin? She did before-"Gwen stopped herself.

"Before what?"

"It's nothing, Sire," Gaius said.

"No, tell me," Arthur insisted.

Gwen swallowed. "Well, a couple of years ago, when Merlin had been injured and left in the forest, Morgana had captured him. Gaius found a serpent in the back of his neck, which controlled his mind with magic. Dark magic. Morgana had made him forget who he was and left him with one though, to kill you." Arthur stared in horror. Merlin had tried to kill him? "Gaius and I managed to stop him from doing anything to you, but we had to remove the snake out of his neck to stop him. It worked," Gwen explained. Gaius covered his mouth, hiding his face.

"Don't worry, Sire, we will find Merlin, and we'll rescue him. He's a fighter," Gaius assured Arthur.

"I know he is, Gaius. It's the scenario that Morgana's given me that worries me. No place to meet, no date or time period for me to make my decision. I don't know where to start to find her, and if I do find her, what do I do? I can't give up my title for Merlin. He'd understand, wouldn't he?" Arthur held his face in his hands, then looked to the wise man in front of him. "Gaius, what do I do?"

Gaius smiled. "I think you should do what feels right to you. You have ways of making the impossible possible, like when Morgana and Morgause took hold of Camelot, and, with only a handful of knights, you reclaimed it. You'll find the answer soon enough." Gaius shifted out of his seat, and took the three plates way from the table. None of the food had been touched. Arthur and Gwen thanked Gaius for his hospitality, and left the physician's room.

How on earth would Arthur figure out the possible from the impossible this time?

* * *

**There you go guys...**

**I hope that chapter cleared some stuff up for you. Arthur should now be out of the slightly OC character, and you now know why Merlin was screaming so violently. Thank you so so so so so so so so so so so much for reading it... it means the world. Really. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys :) I hope you're enjoying the story so far... I'm really enjoying the feedback I'm getting, and I'm grateful for all the help I'm getting with my mistakes (big thanks to Kitty O for that, mainly).**

**Well, here is Chapter 3.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the characters. I'm just writing FanFiction. **

* * *

The pain in Merlin's stomach had grown: the slight throbbing in his stomach had expanded and intensified into a whirlpool of unimaginable pain. The magic left from Morgana was playing out its final piece as it crawled into his bloodstream, circulating and spreading throughout his body. He was glad to have his magic. Merlin reckoned the hours that had passed would have been impossible to survive in if his own power hadn't protected him from Morgana's doing. But he was so weak, terribly weak, but he needed to be ready; the time for escape was soon upon him, and Morgana wasn't finished with the servant just yet.

Merlin eyes flittered gold in the dark room, his hand held over the gaping gash along his stomach. The wound had been deep, and had been at risk of infection from the mould that grew vigorously fast whenever the light hit a spot of moss on the wall in the cell. The warlock had summoned all his strength to heal his wound, but his magic book in his chambers hadn't yet guided him on healing wounds, least of all deep infected injuries such as this. He used his knowledge from Gaius combined with his power in order to create some form of cure for his ailment, and, fortunately, it had worked so far. The downfall of this was that Merlin had to concentrate his magic on the wound, leaving the rest of his body open for the attack of Morgana's magic.

His body hurt so much.

After another hour, Merlin decided that his wound had healed enough, and he concentrated on scattering his magic throughout the rest of his body. The effect was instant, and relieving: his muscles had stopped seizing up in pain; the agonising stabbing pain in his stomach had reverted back to its original throbbing; his head had lost all trace dizziness, and his world had stopped spinning. This then stopped the nausea.

Enough was enough. He had to escape, or who knew what Morgana would do to him next.

With whatever strength Merlin could muster, the warlock stood precariously up from the floor, his feet scraping and slipping along the moist surface below his toes. He clutched his stomach as he walked over to the rusty bars of his cell, knowing Morgana would be making her way to his cell soon. Why didn't he leave a few hours ago, away from the fear that Morgana could walk into the dungeon at any moment. "_Tospringe_" he muttered, his hand opening up and hovering over the lock of the gate. His eyes illuminated a liquid gold over his bright blue irises, and the lock clicked open.

But the escape wasn't over yet.

Merlin pushed the gate open slowly, careful to not make any loud creaking noises from the rusty hinges: he was all too sure that Morgana wouldn't have taken the time to oil them. The gate moved out, without any trace of noise. _Phew,_ Merlin thought. He left his cell, keeping a steady pace along the corridor. His small use of magic had removed some of his concentration on his body, and he was beginning to pay for it. His leg muscles locked, and something inside his body washed over them. The tendons contracted together and seized in his leg. Merlin tried to walk forward, but was met with even more pain from his muscles as he moved. He'd seen Gaius examine people on the street who'd cried out in pain spontaneously, all with symptoms exactly like Merlin's: his magic had let cramp slip through into his legs.

"Come on, Merlin, you know how to treat this," Merlin exasperated to himself. He knelt back against the wall of the dungeons which were built with large, cobbled bricks that dug into Merlin's back. He put his hand against his leg, and massaged his muscles the way Gaius used to when he treated the people of Camelot with cramp. After a few seconds, the pain dissipated and left his leg, bringing Merlin's head back to the plan in motion: escaping. The sorcerer continued his pace towards the end of the dungeon, climbing a long, winding staircase which had many dents and chips in the floor.

Merlin wove in and out of many corridors, hallways and chambers, all in appalling condition, with large amounts of dust, dirt and cobwebs hanging and draping along the ceilings and walls of each room. The throbbing in Merlin's stomach had ceased to fade, and was persistent on making Merlin's escape just that bit more difficult, with Merlin having to continue to stop to alleviate the pain from the gash in his stomach. He didn't think it would hurt that badly, but perhaps Morgana was even more powerful than the last time he saw her. After numbing some of the pain, Merlin eyed black, torn banners that lay scattered along the floor, with faded silver crests printed on the fabric. They looked like the sort of material Morgana used to make her dress, but felt so old that Morgana would rip the dress with one stretch of the seams, but Merlin didn't have time to worry about Morgana's dress at the moment. He needed to get out of this labyrinth, but... where exactly was he?

"_Swaðu æt hwyrftweg_," Merlin muttered, lowering his vision to the floor below him. His eyes burned, and a trail of a faint shimmer reflected on the floor. He followed the sparkly remnants throughout the castle, knowing that he could escape Morgana's clutches once he reached the edge of the castle. He pondered on how she would receive his escape. She would most likely leave the castle in search of him, so a head start would give Merlin a large advantage over Morgana. She knew where he would be headed: Camelot. It would be vital for him to obtain a horse, or meet the dragon to help him on his journey, as using his feet wouldn't be an option when facing Morgana. After 5 minutes of following the golden trail, Merlin began to doubt that his magic had found the best pathway in the castle.

Then, he heard her scream.

Her blood-curdling cry shook the whole structure of the castle. All of a sudden, a large stone from the ceiling became dislodged. It crumbled and fell from above, shards of stone covering Merlin's body and disturbing the dust that lay peacefully on the ground. With the woken dust lingering in the air, Merlin coughed and spluttered whilst fanning the air so he could breathe properly. His stomach jolted at each cough, re-opening the wound that took Merlin hours to settle in the cell. The shrieks echoed throughout the castle, and reverberated through the walls. Her magic was so strong now, and it terrified Merlin. He was so weak from the fight, so tired from the pain and so uneducated in his powerful spells that he felt anything he would use against her would be useless.

Merlin looked down to the floor, and gasped. The trail had been hidden in the dust.

"MERLIN!"

Morgana was furious. What had she been planning? He knew from past experience that Morgana never became enraged like this when a prisoner escaped from her clutches. She'd always kept her head on her shoulders, and planned their re-capture, but Merlin's escape had enraged her so much that even her magic was pouring into her cries. It reminded him of when she found Morguase so still in the great hall of Camelot, and how her agonising cries had rendered the hall a broken mess. It took months to clean and re-build the courtroom.

Merlin dropped to the floor, and wiped the dust and dirt away. The mess had covered the glittering pathway his magic had made for him, and now that Morgana knew he was missing he had to escape. His chest heated as the nerves kicked in, and the dirt on his hands from the floor became clumped when the heat and humidity from Morgana's magic made his body incredibly hot. After a few seconds of wiping, a faint trace of the pathway was located.

"I can't wipe the floor if I want to escape," Merlin told himself. Merlin stood up, his breath choked, and lowered his hand to the floor. "_Cume þoden." _He raised his hand slowly, and a small tornado grew on the floor. As he moved his hand higher and higher, the wind grew bigger and stronger. After ten seconds, the hallway had been filled with the wind, sending the debris from the ceiling straight into the walls. Merlin placed his hand back down to his side, and let the wind settle down to a halt. Immediately, the pathway had become clear again.

Morgana's screams continued on their ravenous path, and grew louder after the outburst of magic from Merlin. The sound sent Merlin's body into a frenzy, especially after using such strong magic in his condition. He knew Morgana's magic was connecting with the left over spell that she'd placed on Merlin, and terrible images flashed inside his head. No, Merlin. Don't let her win, he thought to himself. The pain that had been re-ignited in his stomach was ignored, and Merlin followed the pathway.

He turned left.

He turned right.

He followed numerous hallways and spiralling staircases.

He turned left again.

And again.

Another dark hallway.

Another torn black flag.

This castle was a maze: he didn't know whether Morgana knew the castle's plans, but he felt like he'd been running forever. What if Morgana would catch up to him? He just had to trust his magic, and hope it would find him the escape.

The screaming grew louder; Morgana was getting closer.

Merlin had to take action now. He ran through a doorway, closed the door behind him and then turned to face the door. "_Fýrbendum fæst." _The door clicked lock. Merlin winced as the spell finished, and he clutched his stomach. The gash was still bleeding, but that wasn't his main concern at the moment. Morgana's screams were becoming deafening. Merlin dashed along the pathway, checking for any sign of light from the windows or gaps in the bricks as he passed along through even more dark corridors. If there were light, he'd be near the outskirts of the castle.

Then, a ray of hope appeared.

His magic had led him right. He followed a dim light that grew ever closer as her continued to follow his magic and came across one hallway just above a derelict courtyard, just like Camelot's outer corridors would be. The difference between the courtyards, though, wasn't the shabby appearance it held compared to Camelot's. No, it was that it was huge. Massive. It was bigger than any courtyard Merlin had ever seen. Merlin reckoned that it would have been spectacular when the castle had been used, but he couldn't let his thoughts dwell on the dead castle.

The cries grew louder and angrier, and Merlin felt as if his head was going to split in any second. He reached the courtyard, and turned round to the entrance of the castle. Merlin prepared his magic once again, clutching his painful stomach. "Ahríes þæc!" Cracks formulated in the roof of the entrance, and rubble began to cave down on the open entrance to the courtyard. Rocks piled and blocked all Merlin's view of the castle's hallways inside. _That should stop Morgana_, he thought to himself. Merlin turned on his heels and ran as fast as he could towards the rusty pillars of a gigantic gateway that led to an overgrown forest. The branches had entwined with the gates' bars, and the twisted with the metal-work.

Morgana screamed again.

Merlin threw his hands to his head, her magic still unable to leave him. _I need to get her out of me_, he gasped in his head. The wound was still bleeding, and his dirty blue shirt was fast becoming stained with red blood. The pain was gnawing away in his head, and Morgana failed to stop her terrifying screams. It pierced into the very fibre of his being, and he was unable to control how he felt inside himself. Black spots invaded his vision, but Merlin wasn't going to give up yet when he was so close to escaping. "Forsuwung þæs efenhléoðor," Merlin said in his head. "Forsuwung þæs efenhléoðor. Forsuwung þæs efenhléoðor!"

They stopped; it had worked. Merlin breathed a huge sigh of relief, sickness creeping into his stomach. He continued his journey towards the old gates in the knowledge that he would find his way back to Camelot soon. Maybe Arthur was out searching for him? Merlin didn't know: he didn't want to think about Arthur at the moment, but he missed him. He wanted to apologise for the soup, and for them to go back to being friends again. He'd sworn to take care of Arthur, but he couldn't do it injured and miles away from Camelot. He was going to go home.

He was just about to pass the first tree outside the crumbled castle when her arm became outstretched, and knocked Merlin out onto the ground. Merlin's head hit the ground violently, and the black spots returned. This time, though, he gave in.

* * *

The witch was plotting: she had the servant, Merlin, and she had Arthur's attention. She knew Arthur would never trade Camelot for Merlin, but she also knew Arthur would never give up on Merlin's life. He would have a plan, no doubt, to save Merlin. He cared too much for him. She would have to play dirty...

However, there was something else stirring in Morgana; what had Arthur done to change the security of Camelot. If she was going to invade Camelot, she would need to know how to get inside without arising too much attention. Arthur may have changed when the guards would patrol around Camelot and in the forests, and how and when the servants performed their duties. It was vital she knew. At least Merlin would come to some use before Arthur would arrive. _Yes_, she thought, a smug grin crawling on her face. She would get that information from Merlin before Arthur could even begin to know one clue about her whereabouts. Maybe the injuries she would leave would soften his heart, lower his defences... she would need any advantage to make the transaction easier.

Morgana toyed with the dagger Arthur gave her for her birthday. The irony of it all; Arthur's dagger would be the one to torture his best friend. It almost killed Uther that night, and now its blade would be needed to draw another one of his loved ones blood. The witch stopped her game, and walked towards the dungeons.

The castle was odd. Since finding it, after losing Camelot again, Morgana had been exploring the castle, trying to find some way of identifying who it may have belonged to. She found nothing. The only sign of legacy it may have held was in the black banners dotted all over the castle. Some of them hung from ceilings and walls just like Camelot's had been, with rips and tears from sword fights. Others were left embedded in piles of stone and rock, or left to blow in the wind. The silver threading had become loose on all of them, which was the only way to determine its family. After a few weeks, the mystery of the castle stopped bothering Morgana. She had other things on her mind, after all, and, now that she was feeling recovered from her stab wound, she would strike back against Camelot.

She walked graciously through the narrow hallways and dark corridors, following the route planned extensively in her head. Any place of importance now had a map in a part of her mind, which she accessed when she needed to get to the place. It was becoming heavily handy, especially in this labyrinth of a castle.

Endless torture ideas popped in and out of her head: she could dig the tip of her knife into different areas of Merlin's skin until it touched his bones; she could make long, deep gashes into Merlin until he begged her to stop; she could beat him senseless; she could conjure a creature from dark magic and use it to torture Merlin; she could twist his mind again, but with much more ferocity. The possibilities could never end.

Her shoes clanked and echoed in the castle, adding an atmosphere that pleased Morgana. She imagined that Merlin would hear the heels of her shoes cluck against the surface of the floor, and let fear and panic rise inside him. It was just so good! Morgana had only one more corner to turn, so she built up all her dark magic... but Merlin wasn't there.

Morgana was stunned. "Wh-what? How... how? The door was locked," Morgana told herself. Merlin must have found a way to escape; he always did. "MERLIN!" Morgana screamed, anger finally keeling her over. Her eyes burned gold as she screamed and the whole castle shock where it stood. The roof cracked above her, the cage doors that once held the servant were torn from their hinges and the structure of the castle became even more damaged than when she had originally found it. _He will _NOT_ escape from me_, Morgana thought bitterly in her head. She let her magic calm down and spread throughout the dead air, her screams becoming more terrifying as they travelled. Merlin would hear them soon enough.

How would she find Merlin? She'd discovered that the castle was a maze, with a variety of possibilities to escape, and Morgana hadn't fully explored every route of the castle. She doubted she'd even seen all of it yet. Nevertheless, she continued to search for the boy, Merlin, who'd once been one of her most loyal friends. Now, she was willing to kill him. If Morgana, in the past, had seen what horrors she would do, maybe she wouldn't have changed. Maybe she would have still been led to this pathway.

No one would ever truly know.

Morgana picked up her pace, and started to catch up with her reverberating screams. They were blood-curdling, heart stopping. _Maybe if I do it again..._ she mentally told herself. She sucked in air to her lungs, almost coughing as the dust made her throat parched, and screamed. She let her magic flow through her voice, and let the echoes carry it to Merlin.

Then, she heard a door slam shut. She turned behind her, and saw a long, narrow corridor which pinpointed the sound, and she knew Merlin had been down this corridor before. There were numerous scuff marks on the floor where dust had fallen and his shoes had unsettled its home.

She turned left.

She turned right.

She followed numerous hallways and spiralling staircases.

She turned left again.

And again.

Another dark hallway.

Where was Merlin?

Then, it faced her; the door seemed weak enough, its black wooden face showing off sword marks where a battle must have occurred in the past, and gaps in the wood revealed another long corridor behind the door. She knew Merlin would have taken that route. She walked up to the door as she normally would, and pushed against it. "Strange," Morgana thought aloud. Merlin didn't have any formed of key, but the door was somehow locked. "It's no obstacle, though." Morgana raised her hand, and focused her eyes on the lock. "_Onlúcan_," she murmured. Magic flowed from her hand to the door lock, but there was no click. Morgana ignored this, though, and gently pushed the door. It was still locked. Morgana looked quizzically at the door, and shoved harder against it. It didn't move. "_Onlúcan!"_ She repeated, her hand firmly over the door lock this time. No click again. Morgana composed herself before pressing her hand over the lock. She closed her eyes, and let her mind go.

There was magic on the lock, powerful magic, and there was only one other person in the castle: Merlin.

"No..." Morgana realised, shaking her head in disbelief. "He can't... how could he?" But how could he not? Every hopeless, impossible situation had been resolved, and the common factor was Merlin. How many lucky escapes had he overcome? How many times had he thwarted her plans? How many times had Arthur been poisoned or mortally wounded with magic, but somehow survived? It was always Merlin.

But how could he betray her and her kind. He had magic, and he hadn't told her, even when he realised she had magic. Instead, he continued the lie, and kept on defending Camelot, which would only further his suffering. Was he really as stupid as Arthur claimed him to be? He should be on her side, not Arthur's, yet he was always on the front line to defend Camelot.

He would pay dearly for his betrayal.

Morgana decided the door wasn't worth the announcement that she would be in full pursuit of Merlin, so she turned back around on the heels of her worn shoes, and walked dangerously the other direction. She turned and dashed through the similar passages, until she came to a familiar area of the castle. She recognised the way the flags were hung, and how the arches were carved into the walls. She was near the courtyard.

Morgana smirked, and let out one final scream to drown any sense Merlin may have held. She needed him as weak as possible if she were to defeat him. The heels still clanked loudly on the cold floor, and bright light started to shed into the darkness of the castle. Small windows appeared by the wall, revealing the enormous, yet neglected, courtyard below her. In the middle of the space below was the servant, his hands clutched to his head. "Aw, you poor thing," Morgana said snidely.

Merlin raised his head up and looked at the gates that led to the forest ahead of them, and began to run towards them.

"You're not escaping me, traitor!" Morgana breathed, opening a window. Cool air hit her face, and pulled back escaping hair to give her a clear view below her. Merlin was so near the gate now. "Ablinn ðu; forlæte ðu nu!"

The figure below her crashed to the ground, the full force of Morgana's spell hitting his back and blasting into his head. Merlin's head lay limp on the stone floor, but he didn't arise: the spell had knocked him out.

Morgana pulled the window shut, and she made her way down to the courtyard. When she reached Merlin, she examined him. He didn't look like a sorcerer, but he did have an air of magic in him. His skin was pale white, but flawless, and, even though it was scruffy, his hair was raven black. She knew that underneath those still eyelids were bright blue eyes, which she knew held the potential of magic. She smiled at the wonder of what she could do to him when he awoke. This new knowledge now opened a whole world of possibilities against Arthur. His reaction could end Merlin, since he followed Uther's reign! She could then expose him for who he truly was: a murderer. He could kill his best friend because he had magic... Morgana would have to wait and see.

Then, another thought occurred to Morgana. She'd been warned of a warlock who would be by Arthur's side, to protect him and to aid him, and to bring Morgana's fall.

Merlin could be Emrys.

* * *

**Finally, it is done! Urg, I'm sorry for it being later than usual: I've been into London TWICE in one week, had an exam and my birthday, so, overall, I've been too busy and too tired to write. I hope it didn't affect this chapter. Thank you :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yep, I'm late... again. Sorry :/ I was away from my laptop for a week because of half term AND I got caught in the gales and storms in Cornwall... fun! Anyway, I hope you'll forgive me for my late writing, but once my exams are completely out of the way I should have a better schedule for writing, and my head won't be all over the place.**

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Again, I don't own anything to do with Merlin, that all belongs to the BBC.**

* * *

Arthur kept his head held high. Facing the court on a case such as Morgana would be troublesome enough, but discussing the fate of his servant over Morgana would magnify the intensity of today. There would be the invisible 'I told you so' moments in the faces of the council, but Arthur was the one who would ultimately make the decisions over the events of the past few days. He wouldn't let Merlin be kept under her firm grasp for long. Arthur stood up from his wooden chair, which had worsened the already tense muscles in his back, and addressed the courtroom.

"What matters are you addressing today, Sire?" Spoke one of the members.

Arthur cleared his throat. "The hunting trip I had attended to 3 days ago was ambushed by Morgana," he started. Already there were whispers and stirs over the matter. "We could not defeat her. Her magic is strong, and, unfortunately, she has taken my servant, Merlin, the bravest and most loyal person I have ever known.

"It isn't clear what she intends to do to him. At the time, she spoke of a bargain: the crown for Merlin. Obviously, I can't trade the kingdom for a servant, but I will not let Merlin be kept under her hands. I plan to send patrols to scour the land. Hopefully they will find him. If they can't find him, I'll see to it personally. What do you have to say?" Arthur swallowed and let the council talk and mutter amongst them. A hand rose from the crowd.

"Sire, I do not think it is wise to risk your life for the servant. He may be dead at this moment," the man voiced. Heads began to bob up and down in agreement, and Arthur sighed. They just didn't understand how valuable Merlin was to Arthur. When Arthur had no confidence in himself, Merlin would always be there to keep his head clear. If it wasn't Merlin, it was Gwen, but Gwen couldn't stand in the background of the room, keeping Arthur from losing his head. He looked back at the council member, his head already beginning to implode.

"You do realise that Merlin holds secrets that Camelot wouldn't dare mutter. He stands in the background of this very courtroom every session to attend to you and me if we need anything, and so is open to everything that we say. Morgana wouldn't want him dead, she'd want that knowledge, and I don't know how long Merlin will hold out for. We need to rescue him, and I wish for your blessing," Arthur continued, drumming his thoughts into every one of the council members' heads. Surely they couldn't argue with that.

Another member of the court rose. "How many men would you take for your personal mission? That is if the patrols don't find your servant, of course,"

"A few of my most trusted knights," Arthur replied. The court fell into silence. Then, different members stood up from their chairs

"You have my blessing, Sire,"

"And mine."

"I also grant you my blessing," another said. One by one, all the court members allowed Arthur to rescue Merlin from Morgana, urging him to be wary of her magic and, if he could, rid her from Camelot. She was the most powerful sorcerer Camelot faced.

After a few more hours of talk about the taxation system in the kingdom, the patrols in Camelot and how a minor disease arose briefly in the lower towns, Arthur was free. The knots in his stomach had untied, and the muscles in his back had loosened slightly at each blessing. He felt so relieved; he could rescue Merlin.

Arthur made his way to Gaius' chambers to tell him the good news, and found the physician with his head buried in between one of his medical books, no doubt reading upon the brief illness that had left the farmers incapable to work for a few days.

"Is Camelot rid of the disease? The villages became wary after the farmers could not work the lands," Arthur started. Gaius picked his head up from the book, surprised to see the King so early in the day.

"Yes, the illness shouldn't bother us for a while longer," Gaius replied.

Arthur stood still. "You miss him,"

"Of course, Arthur. He's like a son to me..." Gaius trailed, staring at the words in the book. They didn't really make sense anymore. "How did the council session go?"

"Very fruitful: The council gave me their blessing, and I can rescue Merlin if the patrols don't find him. It wasn't without debate, though," Arthur groaned, the muscles in his back beginning to ache again. He rubbed his hand in between his shoulder blades, and managed to secure some relief from the pain. "The problem is, though, if I have to find Merlin, I don't know where to start looking, though. I've sent patrols, but I doubt Morgana will be in the kingdom."

Gaius stood up from the table. "Do you remember seeing anything that night when Morgana attacked you? A clue, perhaps?" he asked walking to the King.

Arthur stared at the wall, scanning his thoughts. He recalled the blood on Merlin's shirt, the stillness in his face and the smirk on Morgana's face, but no clue as to they would be. "I'm sorry Gaius, I can't,"

"Not anything? Not even a flag or map?" Gaius interrogated.

Actually, now that Gaius mentioned it, Arthur could remember something. It was so irrelevant at the time that Arthur barely noticed it, keeping too much attention on the servant in his arms, but there had been something. "Wait a minute. On Morgana's dress, it looked like she had mended it with a different fabric than the dress itself. It would be where a warrior would make a final blow to their opponent. I think Morgana may have damaged the dress when she may have been attacked, and mended it with a flag-"

"Arthur, slow down," Gaius interrupted. "Describe the flag she used,"

"Yes, sorry. Its background was black, just as Camelot's is red, and the emblem embroidered on it was a faint silver. It was torn, but sewn on skilfully, so Morgana must have done it herself..."

Gaius stared at the puzzled King. "And the emblem itself?"

"The emblem had two swords crossing. Well, I say two swords, but the tips were defiantly from blades, and, from the direction they were pointing, they must have crossed. A point that looked like an upside down 'V' or an 'A' without the bottom half emerged from the middle of the two swords, with one winding snake down the middle," Arthur described. Gaius walked over to his pile of books, a small spring in his step. "Do you recognise the emblem?" Arthur asked.

"I think so, but I can't be sure. If I'm right, though, I think searching for Merlin may become easier than you think."

* * *

Morgana stared at Merlin's body, this fragile looking mask that disguised his true nature, and had fooled everyone. The witch's eyes were filled with curiosity and, surprisingly, fear. What if Merlin was Emrys? He'd stopped her enough times in the past to put that thought into motion, and Merlin's loyalty to Arthur was like a knight's, maybe even more. There was just too much that Morgana couldn't explain at that moment; she would have to wait for Merlin to wake up for the answers.

She bent down, and dug her arms underneath his sleeping body. Once she lifted him, Morgana assessed the damage her magic had done: blood had clumped in Merlin's thick black hair, and the same liquid had painted the cold floor a raging scarlet from where Merlin had hit his head on the floor. He was heavier than she'd thought he would be, but nevertheless she carried him back towards the castle, and into its dark remains. She flicked through her thoughts again to find the passage towards the great hall; she didn't know how Merlin had found his way through the castle, but she thought a different location would throw him off the scent.

She dragged Merlin's body towards a cracked pillar. Even with its wounds, it would be strong enough to not break under force, and would hold Merlin's chains securely, but Morgana knew she needed to be careful. The door to Merlin's cage was locked when she left him, and he'd have used his magic to unlock it. He could do it again, if he wanted to. She dipped behind a pile of rocks by a cracked window, and found an old stash of chains that she'd claimed through her travels around the castle. The chains clanked loudly together, and echoed across the room. The witch glanced fearfully at Merlin, hoping her actions hadn't stirred him. Merlin was still fast asleep. She looked back towards the chains. "_Drýcræft cwide ne Onlúcan þás bend," _she said, her voice chains lit up in the same dazzling gold as Morgana's eyes, and the spell set in. Magic could no longer unlock the chains, and Morgana smirked at the idea of Merlin struggling in them, bound to them whilst she made him talk about Emrys. She strode to Merlin, and clasped the chains to Merlin's wrists.

All she would have to do is wait.

* * *

The physician had never been more enthusiastic to search through the old records of the vast library Camelot held. Gaius had dragged the King through endless rows of books upon books, some of the shelves reaching to the tips of the ceiling. Arthur had been standing idle whilst Gaius had been scouring through a variety of books, some small and thin, however some were huge and thick, and their spines could barely take the weight of the pages that held too much information for Arthur to read. Sifting through books like these was something that Merlin usually did for Arthur.

They'd spent hours in this room searching for a scrap, for one clue that could lead them to Merlin, using the emblem that Arthur had described as their basis, but they'd found nothing so far and Arthur was getting anxious.

"Gaius, are you sure there's anything in here that would lead us to Merlin?" He asked.

Gaius stopped reading, and looked up at Arthur. "I know there is, Sire. It's just a matter of time."

"It's Arthur, Gaius," Arthur smiled.

"Yes, of course, Arthur."

Arthur got up, and searched around the large room. There was one book in particular which caught his eye: 'The History of Emblems'. It didn't sound too interesting, but some answers could be provided regarding the emblem. Arthur slid the book out; it was covered in thick layers of dust, and was much larger than he expected it to be. He relaxed along the bookcase, and to flick through various pages, admiring the detail in the watercolour paintings of different emblems.

Then, he found it. A black, eerie painting that portrayed two, grey swords crossing each other, with one winding inky snake wrapping around an invisible line through the middle of the emblem, the letter 'A' in the background of the image. Arthur gasped, and nearly dropped the book in shock. "G-Gaius! I found it!" He shouted.

Gaius fumbled over to where Arthur was standing, the large book shaking in the King's hands. As soon as Arthur noticed Gaius had come into view, Arthur recollected himself, and took back full control over the book; he needed a strong head for this ordeal.

"What is it, Arthur? What have you found?"

Arthur swallowed. "The emblem, it's right here, in this book," Arthur explained, struggling to find the words. He rethought it, "I was looking through 'The History of Emblems' book and I stumbled upon it."

Gaius looked narrowly at the small, scribbled writing that captioned the emblem: "This is the emblem of the castle of the Albion family, who once ruled over the land before it split into the five kingdoms we know today. However, little is known about the family and their castle, as no physical evidence that the castle even existed.

"Legend tells that five great leaders came together to form a rebellion against the King, and his nonchalant use of magic, which was, supposedly, abusing the lives of the people who ruled. They overthrew the King, and divided the land equally to the five Kingdoms we know today. This emblem is all that remains of Albion, and the prophecy for told portraying one sorcerer and King in the future of the land."

Arthur and Gaius looked at each other.

"How did it help us?" Arthur questioned. "We learnt about kingdom which probably doesn't exist, and it gave us no clue on where Merlin is. Please tell me what we learnt from that," Arthur said, frustration rising in his voice.

Gaius exasperated tiredly. "Albion. We are looking for Albion. Someone must have drawn a map or heard of its possible location. We're far closer to Merlin than you think, Arthur," Gaius reassured Arthur, patting him gently on the shoulder. "We'll look again tomorrow; you need to rest, Sire."

Arthur looked back at Gaius, and walked with him out of the library. "It's Arthur, Gaius. Please don't make me repeat myself."

"Of course, Arthur."

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed that :)**

**Okay, the legend of Albion from the Emblem is made up to a certain point: the castle and what Gaius read from the book was mostly made up, apart from the prophecy about the sorcerer and the King (Merlin and Arthur, of course) and if any of it is similar to the legend... sorry, I didn't know :3 I just thought I'd say that in case of disclaimer issues and I didn't want to say at the start (Spoiler Alert).**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for all the reviews, my writers block has been cured (I hope!) from all your wonderful comments, thank you! I was a bit worried about Chapter 4 because of how much I was putting off writing, but now I want to write ALL the time and better quality too!**

**Well, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Merlin or any of the characters.**

* * *

Arthur didn't sleep that night.

_What if Morgana did find that castle? Would Merlin be there with her? Where is Albion's castle? There's barely any trace of a map for the castle? Does it even exist? If it doesn't, where would Morgana hide? Will she ever ask me to meet her to discuss about Merlin and Camelot?_ Thoughts, scenarios and questions plagued Arthur's mind for hours upon hours before he could drift off to sleep. Even in his sleep, though, his fears continued to creep inside his head. Dreams filled his vision as he slept about what Morgana could to Merlin with her magic; she could summon pain with a flick of her hand, and throw any man to a wall with the muttering of a word, but, unconsciously, he still had faith in Merlin. Throughout his dreams, Merlin never uttered a word about Camelot's defences, or about Arthur and his habits. He was still the most loyal person Arthur knew, even in his dreams.

It was Gwen that woke him from his nightmares.

"Arthur?" She whispered close to him.

Arthur groaned, and turned onto his side.

Gwen sighed. "Arthur?" She asked again, shaking his shoulders.

Arthur flicked open his eyes, the rest of his body failing to follow suit to his wake up. "Good morning, Gwen," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from his restless night.

"Good morning, Arthur," Gwen copied. She propped up Arthur's pillow as he managed to fumble into an upright position, and smiled. "Gaius said he'll meet you in the library at noon, to search for a map that could aid your mission."

Arthur rubbed his bleary eyes, and moaned: hadn't he done enough in that library? _Well, every little helps_, Arthur thought. "Good, I'll meet him then."

After that, Gwen picked out Arthur's attire for the day, consisting of black trousers, a blue shirt and his brown leather boots. She wasn't as good at recognising what Arthur needed for the day like Merlin, but she thought he would need something comfortable. It was going to be an even longer day today. Arthur quickly put on the outfit his wife had chosen, engaging in a kiss or two as they talked about little things during their sacred time together. It was bliss for Arthur, this peace from the situation.

But this peace wasn't to last for long.

Too soon, it seemed, that noon struck, and Arthur was back in the library, already endless books and maps laid out on the table. Gaius was looking carefully at a map in particular, his eyes narrowed and his brow crossed as he looked over the drawing on the paper. It wasn't the right map, though.

"Any luck?" Arthur asked, breaking the conversation.

"None yet," Gaius replied, his eyes still concentrating on the map. He put it down, and looked up at Arthur. "Do you have any ideas where to start?"

Arthur looked at a pile of books, his mind already exasperating at the scale of its size. "I'll start over here."

They looked well on into the night. Arthur had never read so many books before that night, but no trace of any map had been discovered. There were many stories though: some were well known stories, such as the one Merlin had re-told Arthur before he pulled the sword out the stone, however, some were not. There was one in particular that had been repeated, a story about The Once and Future King, who worked in unison with Emrys, the most powerful warlock in existence, to unite the land of Albion, and restore peace and harmony to the land. Merlin had once called Arthur the Once and Future King, but Arthur hadn't taken it seriously. Also, Morgana seemed to talk about Emrys as if he helped Arthur. His most recent account was before he took back Camelot: Morgana had said 'Not even Emrys can save you now'. She must have been referring to this warlock who would one day work with him. Arthur was startled by the notion of him working with a sorcerer.

Nevertheless, Arthur and Gaius continued to plough through many more books until dawn broke over the kingdom. Arthur had drifted off somewhere in a book describing the history of a local village in Camelot, but Gaius had managed to stay up, his eyes drifting in and out of various maps in one large book in front of him.

This time, though, he'd found the right map.

"Arthur," Gaius called out. He blinked twice, and yawned. "Arthur... I think I've found it," Gaius called again, his voice tired and quiet from the limited sleep he'd gotten.

"Mhm," Arthur mumbled, his head resting on the wooden table. "What is it Gaius?"

"Arthur, I've found it, I've found the map!" He exclaimed, the sudden realisation waking him up.

Arthur lifted his head up. "You've what?"

"I've found it, Arthur, the map to Albion." Gaius didn't have to repeat it any longer.

Arthur stared at Gaius. He couldn't quite believe that they'd done it, that the map had been found. He scampered round to Gaius' side of the table, and looked closely at the map in particular.

It wasn't too far from Camelot, maybe a week's ride maximum, but is well in Lott's kingdom. Arthur didn't know how Morgana had slipped in undetected, but he guessed that magic was at work. If he rode out today, he would make it to the castle within a week.

_Hang on Merlin, we're coming for you._

* * *

It was dark again. The light that he'd been so happy to see was gone, and replaced with a vision of shadows. Except he wasn't back in the cell he'd been kept in. No, he was in a different, much larger room than before. Four great pillars loomed precariously over Merlin, attaching to a great ceiling, carved with pictures of knights, townsfolk and a king, all standing together as equals, except some of these people had something about them, something enchanting: two of the knights' eyes glowed gold, along with a few of the townsfolk, except they were all standing together in peace. He didn't know which room he was in, but it made him happy to see that magic folk had been treated as human beings, not the disgusting monsters Uther had made them out to be during his reign.

Then it hit him why he was here: Morgana. She'd found him, and she'd stopped him. He'd been so close to escaping, and now his hopes had gone. He was in a new place with new bonds, and it was unlikely he would escape again. His head ached from the fall, and he could feel Morgana's magic in the room. His leg scraped the ground, and he could almost feel Morgana's gaze on him.

The echoes of her shoes grew louder with each step, and Merlin made himself sit up. The gash on his stomach had defiantly gotten worse.

"Good morning, Merlin. I was worried you might not wake," Morgana sneered.

"Glad to see you still care about me," Merlin said sarcastically. "I still don't understand what you want from me, though."

Morgana stared into Merlin's eyes, her glare chiselling into his skull. "What I wanted with you before is irrelevant now."

"What did you want with me before, then?" Merlin asked, a state of nausea suddenly taking over him. _Must just be a concussion_, Merlin assured himself.

"I just wanted information: security information, any new tactics that may have been discussed in the council meetings. I know how much Arthur kept you in those sacred gatherings so he wouldn't get bored, but all that's changed now. There's something new I want to know, and only you can tell me."

Merlin swallowed. "I won't tell you anything."

"Oh, believe me Merlin, after what I will put you through, you'll be telling me your most prized secrets without regret," Morgana said. "Do you have magic Merlin?"

Merlin stayed silent. How did she guess?

"Merlin, I believe I asked you a question."

"Of course I don't have magic, whatever gave you the impression I had magic, how you could even-"Merlin stopped himself. He was such a bad liar.

That's when it began. The endless spells poured out of Morgana and into Merlin, all for one answer, 'yes' or 'no'. Merlin had screamed for hours, and new wounds were carved into old ones. The dagger Morgana prized so greatly cut and scarred Merlin more times than Merlin could remember. He just wanted it to stop.

It dug harder into his skin, and Merlin was broken. His skin felt like glass had continually shattered onto him, and his whole body felt like one, raging, blazing fire. He could faintly hear Morgana cooing 'ádl' into his ear as her black hair covered Merlin's face. Blood began to pour from his nose, and Merlin could not feel himself any more. His mind had ran from the pain and into the darkness, but even that could not prevent himself from screaming "YES! I HAVE MAGIC! PLEASE STOP!" over and over again.

Morgana smiled at her victory, and Merlin was disgusted with himself. The pain had ceased, and Merlin no longer had to hide his mind, but he was horrified with himself. He couldn't believe he'd sold himself so easily, and that it was Morgana who he'd sold himself too.

"Thank you Merlin. I knew you'd talk soon enough."

_Too soon_, Merlin thought to himself bitterly.

"I just have one more question..." Morgana said.

Merlin was so broken now. His stomach had erupted blood like a volcano would with lava, and it was staining the floor. New cuts covered his arms and neck, and most of the blood had began to dry from his nose onto his face. The next question would be so easy to extract.

"Are... you... Emrys?"

Merlin sighed in defeat. He couldn't handle any more pain, and whatever Morgana would do to him would make him say yes. She leaned over him, and whispered 'ádl' repeatedly in his ear again. Merlin dug himself a hole so deep inside his mind that he no longer felt the pain. He was in a comatose state, almost, but Morgana was too busy thriving over the new wounds she would create on Merlin.

When the screaming had not come was when Morgana knew something wasn't working. She stopped her torturing, and thought. If Merlin couldn't give her the answers, then she needed to work them out for herself; he'd escaped evasion so many times with his magic, obviously, but he'd never sided with Morgana. He'd always stayed next to Arthur's side, never once failing his loyalty. Emrys had been predicted to be her doom, and to always be by Arthur's side as his protector.

Merlin was Arthur's protector: Merlin was Emrys. She'd been stupid to think otherwise.

Merlin coughed and spluttered when his mind realised Morgana wasn't performing any magic on him, and he awoke to find Morgana clasping her hands over her mouth.

She knew.

"I'm sorry Morgana, but I can't let you get Camelot."

She was shaking now. "You-you're Emrys!" She exclaimed.

"I am. _Ablinn ðu;__forlæte ðu nu!_"

Morgana gasped, and tried to run, but it was too late: Merlin's spell threw her backwards, and sent her into the back wall of the hall. She was completely knocked out.

_I need to escape_, Merlin thought. Morgana would wake soon. "_Onlúcan þes bend_," Merlin said, looking down towards the bond tied around a large pillar that restrained him. It didn't work. "_Onlúcan þes bend_!" He tried again.

Magic, Morgana had bonded them with magic. He needed to think creatively.

"Okay, Merlin, it's going to be dangerous, but it's your only hope," he told himself. He looked above to the pillar above him. "_Cínan sé beam!_" He blasted. A crack formed in the pillar, then another, and another until the entire pillar was riddled with lines from Merlin's spell. "_Bláwung__sé beam!"_ The cracks in the pillar burned inside, until it could no longer take the pressure; the pillar exploded into tiny pieces of rock that flew about the entire room, scattering and covering Merlin and Morgana. The witch had still not risen, though.

Merlin clambered to his feet, ignoring the searing pain that was radiating all over his body, and continued out through the hallway. He didn't need to use his magic to find his way out; the path from the courtyard to the hallway was fairly similar to Camelot's, and became much easier when Merlin saw the broken doorway. He defiantly remembered collapsing the roof there. As he climbed over, one of the rocks gave way, and Merlin was sent crashing to the ground.

"I'm not losing yet," he growled to the ground, and got back to his feet. He was so close to the gate, to the forest and the green trees which he knew how to survive in. He could feel freedom closing in on him, and, this time, he made it.

He was free.

* * *

George was the servant to bring out Arthur's horse, but even that couldn't destroy the good feeling Arthur had on the trip. The too-good servant had completely packed out Arthur's bags with food to last for the week, a blanket that blended with the forest and extra weapons in case of a surprise. Merlin hardly ever packed Arthur's horse with such care and thought, but it wasn't the same, and, truth be told, Arthur preferred Merlin's throw-in-everything-you-can method, even if it was unorganised, but Arthur's head was focused.

The map Gaius and Arthur had found earlier that day gave them about four days travelling through the forest of Esiteir and into Lott's kingdom, over the white mountains and deep into an un-named forest that scaled a 25 mile radius, and spending over four days with Gwaine could prove challenging, but it would be worth it for the chance to finally apologise to Merlin about his outburst a few days ago.

Arthur mounted his horse, George giving it one last brush to perfection before Arthur could fully ride out without the servant complaining about its appearance. The sun glared down over Camelot, and the heavy chain mail and red cloak Arthur had acquainted for this journey made his skin swelter under the heat.

Not even that could ruin his hopes.

Leon, Percival, Gwaine and Elyon rode around the square, restlessly waiting for George to be finished with grooming and tightening the horse and its reigns.

"You do know I have a mission to attend to, George," Arthur reminded him.

"Of course Sire," replied the servant. He stopped his brushing, bowed to Arthur, then returned to the castle to complete his chores for the day.

Arthur clicked his horse forward, and joined the knights in a gallop out of the citadel.

_Okay, Arthur, you must be ready for whatever Morgana throws at you, whether it's a sword or a magical spell. You _must_ find Merlin._ Thoughts like this continued to flow in Arthur's mind throughout the day before they reached the edge of the forest that night.

Once they'd settled, the knights made camp, collected firewood and sat down for a small meal that George had kindly prepared before they'd left. No servant was accompanying the knights on this journey.

Elyan was busy on lookout with Leon, who had both taken opposite sides of the camp to watch over. Percival was poking the fire with a wooden stick whilst waiting for Gwaine to finish his second bowl of dinner. Unfortunately, Percival had pulled the short straw and had ended up with the washing up duties, which usually fell to Merlin, and Gwaine was taking his sweet time while Percival kept tapping his foot on the floor in anticipation.

"Hurry up Gwaine, I want to sleep tonight," Percival moaned.

Gwaine kept scraping the spoon, on purpose, against the floor of the bowl, exclaiming to Percival that he wanted to completely finish the food George had left the knights with.

"If you don't hurry up, I'll finish you," Percival joked.

"All right then, don't want Princess getting upset over us," Gwaine said sarcastically. A smile beamed across his face, and Percival left the fire to wash the bowls.

"I don't like it when you call me Princess, you know," Arthur said.

Gwaine looked over to Arthur. "I'm sorry, but it's what I like to call you, Princess."

Arthur laughed with Gwaine, and threw another log onto the fire.

"We will find him, Arthur," Gwaine said.

"I know we will. I'm just worried about Morgana."

"Ah, don't worry about her, Arthur, I've got it covered." Gwaine leaned back towards his bag, and came back with various contraptions at his disposal. "Not magical, but it will give us the element of surprise. You know, it might throw her off her game," Gwaine explained. "This one-"he said, picking up three bags filled with some form of powder, "- is a Smoke Bomb. All you have to do is burn the powder in the bag, tie it up, and wait for it to explode. It'll fill the room with smoke instantly, and might knock Morgana's senses."

"What's this one?" Arthur asked, pointing at 5 different sticks, each a different colour and a small piece of oily string at the end.

Gwaine smiled at the objects. "My speciality: the Colour Rocks. Once you light the string, it burns inside the rock, and it sends sparks of colour around the room. Where I came from, soldiers used it as flares, warnings that the enemy was approaching."

"What did you use them for?"

"That is another story waiting to be told on another drunken night."

Arthur chuckled at Gwaine.

"Stop interrupting me, Princess, do you want to know what we can use them for? To throw Morgana off! We can also signal each other, and when you scrape it against the floor it leaves a trail of its original colour on its surface, acting as a guide if we need to escape or write anything," Gwaine continued.

"How do you know so much about rocks and powder Gwaine? Seriously, I didn't think you were the type," Arthur said.

"Well, I've always grown up around them, and my mother used to make paints when she wasn't doing her normal job, so I just learnt as I grew. Merlin knew about it. When Gaius went missing, he found some clay that only grew in one area in this kingdom, and he immediately came to me to identify it." Gwaine started to stare off into the distance. "I miss him, you know."

"We all do, and that's why we're rescuing him," Arthur told him, patting his shoulder in comfort.

"I still don't understand why Morgana hasn't told you where she is, especially if she wants Camelot so badly," Gwaine said.

Arthur didn't know why either. "Well, if anything, it'll give us the element of surprise, especially with your powder bombs and colourful sticks."

"Hey, they're called Smoke Bomb and Colour Rocks. Get it right, Princess," Gwaine taunted.

Percival and Gwaine swapped shifts with Elyan and Leon for guard duty, and Arthur fell to sleep in an instant next to the fire. He didn't dream that night, but instead hoped that Merlin wouldn't be too hurt, and that the next few days would run as smoothly as possible.

* * *

Night was falling fast. In about an hour, Merlin wouldn't be able to see where to go or whether we would be running into a tree, but he continued to run as fast as he possibly could. He needed to be far away from Morgana. The castle had moved out of view a while ago, but its disappearance hadn't satisfied Merlin enough; he still needed to run.

The blood hadn't stopped gushing out of his stomach since he first left the castle, but he was too paranoid to stop and heal himself. Tiredness was creeping up on Merlin, and he'd nearly vomited from the concussion he thought he'd acquired from the knock from Morgana. Most of the small cuts had closed over and were scarring on his skin, and endless reminder of what he'd been through.

A blasting wind had taken over the forest, shaking the trees and the leaves that grew on them. The noise would cover up his own sounds, and Merlin finally rested his legs. He keeled over, and vomited as soon as his head bowed down. He felt better from it, though. His legs felt like jelly, and too weak to use again for another few hours, and bruises had already formed across his chest where Morgana must have hit him, whether he knew about it or not. The pain had drowned out most of his awareness at that point.

After he'd finished assessing himself, Merlin tugged his shirt up, and rested his hand over his wounded. "_Ágíeman __ond __áfeormian __þes __bealubenn __ædre_." Instantly Merlin felt his spell. The hot pain cooled down and soothed as a cool liquid ran over it, cleaning the blood and dirt away. It revealed the full extent of the infection he'd gotten from leaving the wound too long, but it faded away as the magic continued to flow onto his skin, and the redness quickly turned back to the milky colour Merlin's skin was normally. The edges of the wound began to knit together, and scar over, almost no pain involved in the process. It was over.

Relief flooded over Merlin as he realised there was no more pain, no more narrow halls or dark rooms where he would be left alone, battered and bruised. The problem was that Merlin couldn't break the enchanted chains: throughout the run they'd become a nuisance to Merlin, always twisting his hands and slowing down his run. Even now, Merlin struggled to remain comfortable in them, but he had no strength to force them off.

_I'll wait for till I see a rock. My magic can use that to break them apart then_, Merlin planned. He was just about to drift off into peaceful slumber before the wind dropped, and multiple sticks began to break under foot.

Merlin flicked his eyes open at the sound, and he huddled his body into the hole the tree provide in instinct. Someone was out there.

_Please don't be Morgana_, he begged, the footsteps getting closer and closer and closer...

"I can hear you Emrys," a voice called out. There was something familiar about it, something innocent, but something deadly at the same time. It was in that moment that Merlin wished it was Morgana. "I can hear your mind. You really should protect yourself more," the same voice called out again. A dark figure loomed over Merlin, and pulled him out the tree trunk. His hood fell back in the movement, and his face was revealed.

Mordred.

* * *

**Hope you all enjoyed that. It's been so good to write again, you know, properly. I hated having to force myself to write, but now I feel so much better. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed by story, and kept me going. The next chapter should be up soon, hopefully! I still have two more exams to go and a mock exam before the last term of school is out though, so don't expect it to be out every week.**

**Thank you.**

**P.S. If any of you want to know what the spells mean, I mainly use an Old English Translator. Some of the spells also come from Merlin itself if a translation doesn't make sense :3 **


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for the reviews, they mean the world to me! I've had so many ideas in my head that I've written some other stuff not related to this story, so I hope it doesn't affect this chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Sorry I forgot you last time. I do NOT own BBC Merlin.**

* * *

Merlin felt his body being dragged out by Mordred's arms. They seemed much stronger than before, but Merlin guessed that came with his age: he'd grown a considerable amount since he last saw him all those years ago. The wind continued to blow against their bodies, and it begun.

"_Æðm hrycg_," Merlin called, fear arising as the young warlock approached him. He could fall into the hands of another sorcerer, especially not Mordred. Mordred flung his arms out as his back was thrust behind him and he landed on the floor. Merlin took his chance, and ran, faster than he did before. His wounds were healed, and a new spring in his step had been found, but Mordred was more powerful than he expected. He didn't even hear him call the spell until he felt his body slam against the trunk of large tree next to him. His temple took the full force, and Merlin felt the night go cold and dizzy.

_I can't lose again, I can't! I have to get back!_

"Oh, I'm afraid you won't go back to your beloved Camelot and your dearest Prince Arthur," Mordred said sarcastically.

"He's King, actually. If you want to taunt me at least know who you're dealing with," Merlin replied.

"I won't have to deal with anyone once I'm finished with you, Emrys." His voice was deeper than when Merlin saw him last, with so much anger and bitterness inside. Merlin wished he wasn't in this situation. "You can wish all you want, but it won't stop me or the Lady Morgana from killing you."

_Oh no, not Morgana._

"Oh yes, Morgana. She requested me personally before her scheme became active. I'm not too surprised you escaped, knowing your abilities, but at least Morgana knows now. You've saved me the trouble from telling her myself," Mordred said in his ear, his voice warm but deathly. His hand pinned down on Merlin's back, hard. "_Mamera_," he said softly. The servant's eyes began to drift down slowly, and his breathing slowed as a sleepy sensation crept around his body. His mind shouted and cried for his body to stay awake, but, slowly, it to succumbed to Mordred's powers.

"No... I-I can't... I can't..." Merlin trailed, his body relaxing as the spell continued.

"Shh, sleep Merlin," Mordred cooed. "You'll want to save your energy before Morgana sees you again."

Merlin gave one last attempt to wake, but was too late. He fell asleep, and Mordred carried him back to the castle of Albion, and back to Morgana.

* * *

Morgana still held her eyes closed. Her hand wiped the floor around her, and a thick layer of dust covered it. Her other hand was trapped under a large pile of something heavy, but she was too afraid to look. Emrys, no, Merlin could still be around if he hadn't left yet.

He'd be stupid not to leave, for revenge was flowing in her mind.

Morgana dared to open her eyes, and was met with the deadly night sky glowering above her, millions of twinkling stars looking down at her. _Where did the roof go? _She thought. _Ah, Merlin_. As if there were any need for explanation. She flicked her gaze towards her trapped hand, and found a large pile of rocks pinning it down. Using her other hand, she uncovered it, rock by rock, stone by stone, and found her right hand bruised and broken. Normally, a wound such as this would take months to repair, but Morgana knew better than Gaius when dealing with wounds now.

"_Forbærning ond bétan mín brad_," she chanted. She winced as the broken bones in her hands knitted back together, moulding into their original shape. The purple bruises soon turned to a dull yellow, then faded into the pale colour of her skin. She bent and stretched her fingers; it was as good as new.

Morgana went to work repairing the rest of her body. Merlin had done some damage to her head from the blow on the ground, and her back felt somewhat uncomfortable when she walked. It was easily done with her healing skills, but her use of magic made her tired.

As she walked slowly to her temporary bedroom, rage and anger rose inside her as revenge consumed her every thought. _Merlin must pay for his betrayal_, was the only thought Morgana could think about. He didn't deserve his gifts when all he would use them for would be to destroy any hope magic had of returning to the kingdom, and only she could give magic back. She sped up, and immediately found herself clutching her leg as pain flared from a muscle. _I must have pulled it_, she assured herself. _It's nothing too serious_.

She reached her small, dark bedroom, complete with two candles, a box of magic books Morguase left for Morgana as a gift, and one small bed. She lay her head down on the pillow she had to fashion herself from feathers of innocent animals she'd killed, closed her eyes, and slept.

She was glad of the rest when she woke up the next morning. Her head had cleared, and she could think, something which the injuries she had and the discovery of Emrys had stopped her doing. So many different methods of torture arose in her mind: beating him senseless; using magic to torture; just leaving him in a cell locked and blocked with magic more powerful than Merlin's until he can no longer bare the abandonment. The main thing would be to make him as weak as possible before she Arthur could arrive.

She planned on telling Arthur where her hideout was later today when Mordred arrived to the Castle, and, mainly, after they had hunted down and recaptured Merlin. He couldn't have gone far.

Morgana fixed her dress quickly, remade her hair back into its messy but stylish look that Morguase had fashioned for her. Her sister had given her a look that would be ultimately dark and secretive, making the enemy feel scared to be around her, but beautiful to the sorcerers she would work with in the future. Another of Morgause's gifts to her before she passed... She missed her sister so much, sometimes. Her guidance towards Emrys would be few and far between, but Morgause was gone, her efforts wasted. It had been the actions of Lancelot, Merlin, Arthur and the rest of knights that had destroyed Morgause's final gift to her.

And they would all pay.

Footsteps sounded deep in the castle, the presence of magic roaming heavy in Morgana's body, dark magic. It was time to greet Mordred to her plans.

* * *

Mordred carried Merlin with ease throughout the forest that night. Over the years he'd been secluded from everyone he really knew, he'd had to fend for himself. He practised magic every day, creating new, sublime spells that would leave an army weak at the knees, but he'd been preparing for the day when his magic could leave him. He'd fashioned a sword that he kept hidden under his billowing green cloak, and trained as if he were a knight of Camelot, which had increased his strength continuously. He would be ready to fight against Arthur when the time was right.

Merlin hadn't stirred that night, which aided the journey. His magic had set deep into the fibres of Merlin's being, something that was hard to escape, but he knew Merlin would break from his bonds soon enough, it was just a matter of when and where. He'd found out one thing, though: Merlin had the most elaborate dreams and nightmares. It was if both factors of the dream world rolled into one in Merlin's head. One minute, Merlin would dream of Ealdor, his hometown, and messing about with his friend Will whilst his mother, Hunith, watched and laughed at the two grown men, but then an army would surge through the town the next minute, and an arrow would be sent through Will's chest, and Merlin could only watch his mother run away from him into the forest, out of sight.

Then she would scream.

Merlin then ran from the attackers, over mountains, through forests and into pitch-black darkness until he was in Camelot, and by Arthur's side. It was usually when Merlin laughed at something Arthur said that his King would turn, and become a completely new person. He would tell him that he's only a servant, and that he shouldn't be laughing at Arthur. Merlin would then run off into the darkness and into the forests and over the mountains back to Ealdor, and Will and Hunith would be sitting waiting for him.

They would then start all over again.

It was fun for Mordred to watch the small, inconvenient things that Merlin seemed to love so much be turned to sadness and hatred. It was too good to ignore, and he would no doubt tell Morgana about Merlin's nightmares. Oh, how she would love to use them against him!

Morgana: yes that would be different. The last time Mordred had seen her, she was just beginning her journey in turning to his side against the Pendragon's, and was still considerably good natured in comparison to the rumours he'd been told by many fearing sorcerers throughout the land. She'd been like a mother to him when he'd lost his father, and still had that mother-like nature when she was around him. Would that all be gone because of her new persona? That was the thing Mordred was nervous the most. She was the only person who truly cared for him in any sort of way other than using his magic, but he wasn't a child anymore.

Mordred frowned as butterflies from that thought crept in his stomach, but Mordred didn't frown for long. He eyes looked down the hill he'd stumbled upon, and the castle was revealed, its grey cobbled bricks looking dusty and dry as dawn walked with him over the hill. He nearly galloped down the hill in excitement: all of this was really happening. He had Merlin, and Morgana would soon have Arthur, and Camelot would be theirs, and they wouldn't have to live in fear of magicians being persecuted anymore.

The gates of the castle loomed over him in their majesty, and Mordred imagined a whole other world where magic people could walk freely in and out of these gates with no fear. In a sense, he was doing this himself now, but Mordred only wanted to be able to walk into Camelot without fear, that was his goal.

Merlin began to stir under his arms, and the nightmares grew worse in his head. Mordred smiled as he watched Emrys suffer under his control, and gleefully watched Camelot burn with all his friends still inside, screaming his name as he stood dumb, unable to help them. Sobs started to sound out of Merlin, and Mordred knew he would be awake soon.

The castle itself was dark, shadowy, but very delicate. Mordred would only have to click his fingers and it would fall down - Camelot took a lot more work than that - but it was the safest place Morgana could hide in. He manoeuvred over a pile of rocks that practically screamed magic at him, and he entered. It was much darker on the inside than the outside, with no torches or windows to help guide him. He was a little confused as to why the castle was built so dark, but if Morgana liked it then Mordred would too.

The clanks of heels than got louder and louder as Mordred walked further into the castle, and he knew Morgana was approaching. Her magic was so much more powerful than before, and so much darker. It appealed to him, even if his magic was greater, and it meant they could both take Camelot into their own hands. Again, Merlin stirred as Camelot was reduced to ash with his friends, his family and his life.

Then, a shape appeared in the darkness: the figure was dark, tall, and messy, but stylish at the same time. Her skin was pale, and her hair was as black as the night sky, highlights of green curling and twisting intricately in her hair. She was a sight to behold, beauty and evil and power combined into one.

She was Morgana.

Mordred nearly dropped Merlin at the sight of her. Instead, he just stared, in amazement and happiness. It was Morgana! They'd found each other again!

"Mordred," she said, her voice full of kindness. She was still herself.

"Morgana," he said. His voice was hoarse from everything he was feeling, but it was strong.

Morgana started her pace again, a tearful smile spread across her face. Her arms reached out, and, this time, Mordred dropped Merlin hastily to begin his own run towards her. When they reached, they engaged in a warm, long embrace. Mordred had never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life, and, it seemed, Morgana hadn't either. She pulled at his hair, which had been cut to the same length he'd always worn it. They broke apart, and smiled at each other. Morgana still seemed the same.

"Oh, Mordred, I'm so happy to see you!" She exclaimed. "I trust your journey was safe."

"It was, Morgana. I even brought you a present." Mordred then turned his head back at Merlin, and Morgana followed his gaze.

Instantly, her kindness was replaced with repulsion and hate, and Mordred could feel it. Now he realised just how much she'd changed since she discovered she had magic.

"Morgana?" He asked.

"Thank you, Mordred. I'm sorry, it's just, I discovered that Merlin over here has magic, and that he is none other than Emrys," she snarled, more towards the servant than Merlin.

"Didn't you know?"

Morgana turned to Mordred, confused. "What, had you already known something?"

"In druid legend, Emrys is the powerful warlock that ever existed. I recognised him as soon as I saw him in Camelot. I thought he would help me, but, instead, he has tried to kill me. Forgive me for not telling you, but it's been so long..." Mordred explained.

"There's no need for apologies, I'm just glad you're here now," Morgana beamed, pulling him in for another hug. She felt too warm for her magic to feel this cold. It made him think what his own magic must feel like. "We have a lot of work to do."

They both took Merlin back to the dungeons, locking and sealing his cell with magic that he could not undo. This time, though, Mordred bonded the magic with the gate, and they left Merlin alone in the cell, his original shackles Morgana first put off him taken off and thrown out in the corridor. They had more important matters to discuss than Merlin though.

Morgana showed Mordred to his room, which was only one door away from Morgana if both of them needed anything. The castle was still a maze to Mordred, though, but he had Morgana to show him the different routes in the castle. It wouldn't take long before he knew every route and every short cut that the castle had to offer.

"I doubt it," Morgana remarked.

"Morgana, it's only a castle. It may be big but we'll know our way soon."

"You say that, but you haven't even seen a quarter of the castle." Morgana gave of a slight chuckle as Mordred's face whitened at the thought.

"Can we talk about the plan, now," Mordred said, eager to change the subject.

"Which part of the plan?"

Mordred thought for a second. "Well, what are we going to do with Merlin, and how are we going to get Arthur? Oh, and how are we going to convince Arthur to give up Camelot for Merlin?"

The eagerness inside Mordred could not be contained, and Morgana was happy that Mordred was now part of her plans.

"In order to get Arthur, I'm going to travel to Camelot, using magic, of course, it would take days to walk, and tell him myself. Once I return, we will both torture Merlin to the brink of death, until he is so weak he cannot stand without one of us holding him, and even then it would cause him pain beyond relief. When Arthur arrives, his protectiveness for Merlin will take over, and he will be a puppet under our control. It is then that he'll give us the crown," she explained to Mordred.

He was still confused, though. "What if Arthur brings the knights of Camelot?"

"Then they'll have to face two powerful sorcerers won't they," Morgana assured him.

It was a strange feeling, being with Morgana: with her, Mordred felt safe, protected and loved, something he'd never really felt from anyone since his father died. Before Morgana, it was his father who had comforted him at night and healed his ailments, and now that they were both reunited with the same purpose in mind, Mordred felt like he could be with her properly now.

He'd lost his childhood to loneliness, but now he wouldn't have to lose his adulthood with it.

"Are you going to tell him now?"

Morgana stroked his hair. "Yes, but don't worry, I won't be gone for long. I'm sure you can look after Merlin until then for me," she entrusted. Mordred nodded and smiled, his blue eyes gleaming at her. _"Bedyrne __mé__! Astýre __mé__ þanonweard!_"

Mordred could instantly feel her power, and he smiled as black rope enticed her and took her from the castle. He was alone, but, at the same time, he wasn't. Morgana would return to him, but Merlin could keep him company, and Mordred had the best way to cherish his time together with Emrys: he was going to weaken him as much as he could before Morgana returned, though not too much. Morgana would want to finish him off herself.

Mordred snickered, sneered, then left his room and headed towards the dungeons. _Tonight is going to be fun_.

* * *

**And there is Chapter 6! Again, for the spells, you can use an Old English Translator, but the last spell is from The Fires of Idirsholas, when Morgause takes Morgana. I had to edit it a bit to apply it to Morgana, but it should make sense.**

**I'll try and upload soon, but I have another exam soon and a mock exam.**

**Thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I'm very, very, very, very, very sorry that I'm late... again. I don't want to make a habit of it, and I won't, I promise! Hope my lateness doesn't affect the quality of this Chapter.**

**Enjoy! (WARNING: There is a violent scene in this, so be prepared for a whole lot of pain)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any content from BBC Merlin.**

* * *

Gwaine continued to natter that night. On and on and on about when they were going to stop, or making fun of the other knights, or telling them another drunken story that had massive chunks cut out from when he passed out from the alcohol. But in a strange way, Arthur felt it comforting; the pain of having to listen to Gwaine's annoying voice distracted him from the fact that Merlin's wasn't here right now, calling him a 'royal prat' or a 'clot-pole'. He still didn't understand what that meant.

On into the night they continued, riding with pace and speed when there was an open pathway or field, and slowing down to be stealthy and careful as the trees got thicker and denser, and where injuries would be sustained if they continued to ride hastily. They couldn't afford any mistakes, not an injury or a bandit attack. All the knights needed to be at their peak if they were to rescue Merlin.

"...so, like I was saying, this huge man didn't stand a chance against me, even if I was drunk. I still took him down. You remember that, don't you Percy?"

Percival sighed. "You were beaten to a pummel. The only reason you got out alive was because we had to drag you out of the tavern."

"Don't be so dry and honest, Percival, I've got a reputation to hold,"

All the knights laughed at that comment. "You haven't got a very good one then," Elyan said.

Gwaine rolled his eyes at Elyan, and continued his story. "So, before my good friends took me away from my victory, I had this fight with the big man. He was throwing these god-awful punches at me, swinging his arms in rage as I dodged all of them-"

"Some of them," Elyan corrected.

"Alright then, Elyan, whatever you say. So, we ended up having a big brawl, but the best part was when..." Gwaine tilted his head down, and he stopped talking. Everyone noticed.

"Gwaine, are you alright?" Leon asked. Arthur moved his horse closer to Gwaine, and examined him; his chin was nearing the lower part of his neck, and the gleaming smile he usually wore when throwing his stories into the night was gone. Instead, his face was full of sadness, a memory that didn't really make him happy.

Then, he smiled. It was small, but it was a smile. He huffed a chuckle at the same memory, and Arthur's face became a contortion of confusion. "What is it?" He asked.

"Sorry, the best part involved Merlin." Of course it would be Merlin.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I want to. It's not the best part for no reason... it just shocked me.

"So, Merlin had just walked in hearing me beating the hell out of this guy, who'd mocked the knights, and Merlin just ran in to help. As usual, he got too caught up, but the best part was the way he got himself un-caught. He picked up this little flower on the table behind him, and threw it in the man's face. It was genius! The guy started sneezing all over the place and all Merlin had to do was duck under him and escape. That's about as much as I can remember... such a good night." Gwaine's face was solemn, but happy. He liked remembering Merlin like that, at his peak in hilarity, with the bravery and cunning of a knight, but in the disguise of a servant. Merlin had been the first person to truly care or remember Gwaine, and rescuing him was more important than the knights could understand.

Well, perhaps Arthur was the exception.

"Can't believe I didn't remember that," Elyan said.

"You were too busy focusing on me. That's why," Gwaine explained.

"Well, I'm exhausted, when are we going to stop?" Percival said.

Arthur rode his horse round to face the group: "We will be continuing till we reach the castle," Arthur announced. "We need as much time and surprise as possible. We'll rest if we must, but not for long. Merlin's life is in danger, and I don't want to miss saving him if it was because one of us was too lazy to get up quickly, do you understand?"

"But Sire, the horses must rest too. They cannot carry so much for so long without having a break," Leon stated.

"It's all taken into account: we'll rest if we must, including the horses. For now, though, we must continue." Arthur gently moved his horse in the direction of their journey, and he set off. Gwaine followed suit, just as quickly as Arthur. Leon, Elyan and Percival exchanged glances between each other, but agreed silently that Arthur was doing the right thing. They caught up, their horses beginning to tire as the night crept along.

* * *

The bars of his cell were cold and harsh, little bits of metal cutting at his hands as they brushed against Merlin's cell. The warlock was hiding in the shadows from him, but he wouldn't be for long. Soon, he would be begging him to stop, to end the onslaught of pain that Mordred had for him, but Mordred wouldn't stop until Morgana returned, until Merlin would be at breaking point.

The servant looked very different from when he caught him in the forest: he had been famished, but not starving unlike now. His skin had sunken on his face, showing off how prominent his cheek-bones were but at a disturbing level. On the subject of his skin, it was becoming a horrible shade of grey rather than the healthy paleness his face usually wore. There was left over residue of blood still on his shirt, which would soon become scarlet again. Mordred smirked. The delicate figure in the dark noticed Mordred was standing there, watching him, and he shuffled ever-so slightly further into the dark.

"Don't run away from me Merlin," Mordred cooed.

"Why would I run away?" Merlin said blankly, his voice hoarse. The hunger had seriously got to him.

"Because what I'm about to do to you, cannot be endured with consequences," Mordred said. His eyes locked firmly with Merlin's, and the servant shivered. "That's better. Now, shall we get started?" Mordred removed his hands from the dangerous bars, and rubbed them together. Instantly, the scratches from them healed and faded into nothing, and the excitement rose in his veins. _Finally, I will have my revenge._

Mordred bent over to retrieve a box. The outside was designed with beauty and torture in mind, the creator of the box obviously sharing the same thoughts as Mordred. The wood was smooth friendly to touch, with intricate pieces of artwork carved into the woodwork. Amongst the pretty façade the box held in the exterior viewer, the interior decor was a whole different story. The inside was deadly, both with looks and what it contained. The inside had no drawings, just words. Phonetic screams of different victims were written in blood, and words of their torturer were inscribed next to the screams. The words were faint, though, and had been overlapped over time, but Mordred was more interested with the contents of the box. Inside was a whip, a large, leather whip with a sharp piece of metal at the tip of the line. A magically enhanced dagger, embedded with red jewels filled with dark magic, lay next to the whip. After removing the two items, Mordred eyed what was next at his disposal: a book of torture spells; a small jar of clear liquid that stung Mordred's skin as he lay one drop on his hand; rogue pieces of metal that Mordred sensed had a form of dark magic in them, like the dagger.

They would become useful, very useful indeed.

He took the small metal pieces first, planning to make the pain grow and grow. The book was in his hand, and he flicked through for some reference to them. Merlin was fidgeting in his cell, the suspense eating him inside. _Good_, Mordred spat in his mind. He found the page, and read the spell specifically designed for these blades. He held them in his other free hand, and let his magic flow into them. The spell was incanted in his head, and his own magic combined with the gift that the blades had inside them. He felt Merlin stare at him, and Mordred knew that Merlin had felt him use his magic. Merlin began to breathe harder and faster, but then relaxed. Mordred's face contorted with anger at Merlin's bravery. _You will not have it easy with me_, he sent to Merlin via his magic.

Mordred wrapped his hands around the blades, and unlocked the door. The dark figure of Merlin wriggled as Mordred approached, and Mordred did not hesitate to use Merlin's fear against him. He dug the blades into his skin, drawing fresh blood from Merlin's arm. The two warlocks locked eyes for a few seconds, and Mordred could see Merlin was figuring out what was happening. Merlin could not scream, and his body was instantly paralysed below his neck. This was what the magic was for. Mordred laughed as Merlin tried to scream and shake his body, but no movement or sound was made. The only sound made was air coming from out of Merlin's lungs, which were hot with pain. Not being able to express pain was what made it this form of torture so different yet so effective.

Mordred sat at the back of the cell, smiling as Merlin struggled so hard to scream, but nothing was happening. It was delicious to watch. After a few minutes, Mordred had the urge to do something himself, so, leaving Merlin with the blades stuck in his arm, he went for the liquid. He'd deduced that this was a form of acid, and a powerful one too. One drop brought Mordred irritation to his skin, imagine what a spoonful would bring... Mordred smiled widely, and he took the half full bottle to his victim.

Mordred plucked the blades out, and Merlin shouted violently. His whole body contorted into different shapes along the ground, until Merlin could finally stop feeling the pain. His head rested along the freezing ground, and he breathed in, his throat making whimpering noises as new air made its way inside him. Mordred used his vulnerable state to attack, and he poured small amounts of the acid onto the new wounds in his arm. Steam from the reaction of the blood and acid rose into the air and the pain that Merlin felt was excruciating. The acid ran inside his body and mixed with his blood. Mordred didn't know what to expect what the acid would do, but now he knew. The acid was physically killing Merlin.

Mordred reached for the spell book, but was at a loss for stopping the acid. He checked the bottle, but was only given one thing to read: 'Warning: Do not put inside the body without means or intentions to kill the victim'. Mordred dropped his mouth. The inside of Merlin was flaring up, and Merlin couldn't even speak. Blood was pouring out thick and fast and Mordred panicked. Morgana would kill him if she saw Merlin dead; they're whole plan would be ruined. He had to think on his feet. Spells and incantations were spoken inside his mind, where the most powerful magic was created. His hands were hovering over where the acid first entered Merlin, but nothing seemed to be happening. Merlin just kept on breathing faster and faster, and new wounds were being created on his skin as blood vessels began to dissolve away.

He tried continuously, but was only met with the dying breathing of Merlin, who seemed to be pushing away Mordred's magic. Mordred had worked out from that that Merlin was making himself worse! He wanted to die, no, he wanted to escape! He knew how important he was to Morgana's plan, and was trying to end it. "You're too sneaky for your own good," Mordred hissed. He thrust more power into his telepathic words, killing off any power Merlin had over him.

Slowly, the warlock began to recover. Mordred could see that the blood was being cut short as the wounds, both inside and out, began to heal, and the pain Merlin felt physically was being overwhelmed with the pain he felt mentally as Mordred healed him.

The next few hours were torture for Merlin, but pleasure for Mordred. With every stab of his magical dagger, the more Mordred laughed and the more Merlin screamed in agony. With every hit of his sharp whip, the harder Mordred hit as blood oozed out of new wounds along Merlin's back and stomach. The gash Merlin had healed had, once again, re-opened, but Merlin was now no longer screaming. He winced at every hit, and groaned at every stab, but he was broken and was too used to the pain.

"You're weak enough," Mordred said blandly. He wanted more fun, but Merlin wasn't being entertaining enough. Morgana would be impressed, though, and he knew she would want the last hit before Arthur came riding down to 'rescue' his beloved manservant.

* * *

Billowing black fragments of material surrounded Morgana, and the next place her eyes saw was a dark, eerie forest. The trees were swaying calmly in the light wind, and the animals could be seen scurrying along the floor in the dark. Morgana smiled: this meant that no human was near, or the animals would have fled. She flicked here hood up over her head, and made her way confidently to the castle.

The white walls of the castle glowed in the faint moonlight, and her journey was clear, with no interruptions from guards. However, the forest was the easy part. The guards that defend the castle each and every day would not be as kind as the animals that let her walk freely by her.

Instead of taking the direct approach and knocking on the front door, Morgana sneaked around the back of the castle. Just inside the forest was a broken gate that she had used to sneak her army inside Camelot before. She slipped past the crooked metal that had been blasted by magic too often, and into the depths of the castle. The first few chambers she walked through were naturally dark and cold, but, as she delved further in, the castle began to become lighter and warmer as torches burned.

She'd reached the dungeons quietly, and not haltered by any guards, until that moment. Two men wearing helmets that covered most of their faces were sat down on a small table playing a simple game that involved two die. It was the simplest thing Morgana could think of, but, instead of attacking head-on, she concentrated her magic on those the two square objects the men were throwing in glee, and flicked her hand. They hung in mid-air for a split second before being moved across the room and underneath a pile of barrels. The two guards looked at each other quizzically, and got up to investigate their die. Morgana took her chance, and she made her way to the squared-spiral staircase that took her away from the dungeon.

This part would be even harder. There were only two guards in the dungeons, and both of them weren't the brightest people Camelot had to offer. These next men knew better how to fight, and there were much more of them. They patrolled the halls every night, but not the small passages. That would be Morgana's advantage.

She closed her hood up around her face, trying to hide every bit of her face. Footsteps sounded from the corner, and Morgana had to hide. Behind the thick red curtain, would be a narrow space about 2 feet wide before the window. That was Morgana's only option unless she wanted to announce herself by fighting, which would not help her win her case against Arthur. She quickly raised the curtain, and squeezed herself into the gap, making sure her body didn't touch the curtain. The sounds of footsteps increased until the humdrum of rubber soles against stone floor started to fade away from Morgana's ears. Once she thought it was safe, she revealed herself from her hiding place, and continued to Arthur's chambers.

There would be no one to help him there. There would be guards nearby, but Morgana knew Arthur wouldn't call them unless they were fighting, but Morgana had no intentions to fight, only to talk.

The fighting would happen later.

Morgana carefully evaded oncoming guards from then on, and the large wooden doors of Arthur's chambers were revealed to her. She smirked to herself: "let the fun begin." She opened the heavy doors, and lit the first torch that she saw. It was strange: the room seemed awfully bare and clean without Merlin to tidy it. Perhaps Arthur had got another servant to clean up whilst he waited for Morgana. Then, she looked to his bed.

Perhaps he wasn't even here at all.

"No," Morgana whispered. Where would Arthur be? She cursed under her breath as her plans seemed to slip through her fingers. "I'll wait here until morning then," Morgana told herself. Maybe Arthur was still in Camelot, but was sleeping somewhere else. She checked his wardrobe, and saw that all his clothes were still there. He wouldn't have allocated to another room without taking his clothes. He would have to return here in the morning.

She waited.

Over the course of those dark hours, Morgana had made herself sleep, for her presence wouldn't be much good tired, and neither would her magic. Sunlight woke her up, and the beams struck her eyes. Her body ached from the position she'd slept on, and the bed she slept in, the floor. She would have been better off sleeping in Arthur's bed, but the thought of it wanted to make her throw up last night.

Dawn had struck, and people would be beginning to wake. Still no Arthur, though. She ventured to the window, and saw Gwen, now Queen Guinevere, walking graciously towards Gaius' chambers, passing servants as she walked. Arthur was not walking with her. Morgana knew Gwen would know where Arthur was, and she wasn't about to let Gwen walk away with the information.

Carefully, and almost invisibly, she made her way through the castle and across the courtyard to the area where Gaius' chambers dwelled. She was lucky no one saw her as the sunlight and the white walls made her attire stick out like a sore thumb. She felt much safer inside the passageways towards Gaius' room as the shadows hid her comfortably.

The older, dirtier door that blocked her from Gaius and Gwen was so much smaller and so much more vulnerable than the feel that Arthur's door gave her, and she felt much more powerful at the thought. She opened the door, feeling proud to express her entrance.

Gwen had been talking to Gaius when they were talking. Morgana became interested by the name 'Arthur' being mentioned and the shocked, but surprised, look on Gaius' face as she entered the room with such ferocity. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting but I just want to talk to Arthur for a moment about my location. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?" Morgana asked, trying to sound as innocent but brutal as possible. Fear was key in her method.

Gwen stood up straight and defiant, and Morgana smirked. "Don't think your new found Queen stature can keep me from getting the answer, Guinevere." Morgana teased.

"We've been waiting for a week now. We're surprised you didn't come sooner," Gwen said.

"I'm sorry, but Merlin was being a bit of a pest. It was always going to take time," Morgana explained, walking closer to the Queen and the Physician. "Now, if you don't want anything more to happen to Merlin, you'll tell me where Arthur is. Only he can save him."

Gwen and Gaius exchanged glances. "He's gone out hunting, Morgana. He couldn't handle waiting inside the castle any longer for you, and we were running short of meat supplies. I suggest you look for him there." Gaius kept his head held high just as much as Gwen did.

Morgana sneered at them both. "Thank you. I assure you I will find him." With that, Morgana turned on her heels and left the room. She'd been surprised at how Gwen had matured over the years, but, at the same time, she also wasn't surprised. Gwen had always been strong headed even as a servant, and now it had been left free to grow since she became Queen.

But Arthur was the main focus on Morgana's mind, and the forest would be the best place to start looking, to see whether any red capes would be floating as they try to hunt animals. But, hadn't there been animals the night Morgana arrived in the forest? Morgana shook the thought away, telling herself Arthur and the knights had left a few days ago and the animals felt safe enough to come back out.

Whatever it was, Morgana now knew it would be harder to find Arthur this way, and impatience was creeping up on her; she wanted Camelot as soon as possible, and if she had to drag Arthur by the skin of her teeth then so be it.

* * *

**There you go, Chapter 7 written and done. Sorry it's been so late, but I've had so much going on. Two exams and a mock plus music rehearsals for a trip practically every day leave you pretty damn exhausted and with no time to write, AND Muse's new song Survival came out so I've been listening to that non-stop. Again, I'm really sorry, but once things have calmed down I will upload quicker, I promise!**

**Hope you enjoyed the torture scene - Okay, thanks Kitty O for pointing out that's a weird thing to say, but yeah, people can enjoy it... maybe. I just hope it was good is what I'm trying to say... Okay, that was probably the first proper torture scene I've written, so I hope it's up to standard.**

**Thanks guys, I'll update soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, I'm going to say this, and I'm going to say this now: I'm truly sorry for the lateness this Chapter is being posted on. I had the plan done before I went for my three day trip to Paris, and when I got back, I was too tired to write. I know, more excuses, and I hope you can forgive me, and I hope this Chapter will live up to your standards. I hope it is, because today's Chapter is extremely important... and extremely long.**

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do **_**not**_** own BBC Merlin.**

* * *

Black was now the only colour he knew. The darkness and peace the colour held gave him the escape from the pain he felt – well, as much escape as running away could give. His conscious state had now merged with the subconscious recesses of his mind, where the weird, wonderful, terrifying but peaceful memories and feelings hid from the world inside of Merlin. Each person's subconscious mind was different, simply because they had all experienced different thoughts, different emotions at different times and different scenes throughout their life that moulded them into who they were and, subsequently, their inner-mind. Merlin had created himself the perfect pain relief in this form after Mordred had left him shaking, bloody and weak in his damp cell, and his body had shut down in order to prepare for the repair it would have to do.

Merlin flicked through the experiences he'd done throughout his life that made him Merlin in order to ignore that thought.

First, he thought of his mother: his mind replayed a moment that he'd cherished since it had passed. His mother was sitting at their old table in the middle of their cramped room, a small fire burning next to her. She was chopping a variety of vegetables on the table, including carrots, cabbage, parsnips, and potatoes, anything that could be grown in Ealdor. Merlin, just a child at the time, was skipping up to her, his black hair slightly longer and shaggier than it was now. He wore plain clothes, not the slightly dull coloured ones he'd acquired before arriving at Camelot, but was distinctly recognisable by the red neckerchief that he wore. It hung too-big around his neck, but Merlin never noticed it. It had been a wonderful gift from his mother after all, and he would cherish it forever.

His mother looked down, smiling at the curiosity and happiness Merlin was in. "Why aren't you out with Will, Merlin?" Her sweet voice was caring, and Merlin smiled.

"Will had to go help his mother prepare for the harvest celebrations, and I'd thought I'd help you this year," he offered. It had been the first time Merlin had offered to help with preparing for the harvest festival, and Hunith smiled brighter; her boy was growing up, getting older. He was ready to help her now.

"Come here, son," she crooned, patting her lap. Merlin jumped eagerly on his mother, and they both shared a chuckle. "Now, I want you to be careful, as this knife-"she gingerly lifted the blade "-can be dangerous if you use it wrongly."

"Okay, mother. I'll be careful."

The family of two then began chopping the remaining vegetables together, Hunith's hand over Merlin's. Over time, Merlin began accustomed to the feel of the blade of the knife as he sliced through the different types of food, and he lifted his hand away from the knife, taking his mother's with him. His eyes flashed a brilliant gold, and the blade moved itself. In almost no time at all, all the vegetables were cut and ready to be cooked for the festival.

"Well done Merlin. I knew you'd use your magic carefully," Hunith praised, rubbing the shaggy hair on Merlin's hair. The boy smiled up at his mother, and the memory faded away.

Knifes still reminded him of the pain, though.

It was Gaius' turn next in the realms of the subconscious: the night sky outside the small, compact window high above the wall was black as ink, with small, winking lights glowing down below them, lighting the night sky. Merlin was sitting impatiently at the dinner table, smells of different types of food climbing inside his nose, making his stomach rumble. Gaius may not be the best of cooks, but, on that particular day after Merlin had slaved around after Arthur and saved his life from yet another, but very powerful, sorcerer, Merlin was extremely hungry, and anything that he could eat sounded appetising.

The dinner wasn't pretty to look at, but was filling and delicious in Merlin's eyes. It was a red stew, filled to the brim with the same vegetables his mother was chopping all those years ago in Ealdor, but with new food stuffs, such as onion and tomatoes. Small pieces of chicken had been dumped in the meal, and lifted the dinner that Merlin had been so craving for all day.

Gaius and he shared an eager smile as they downed their stew.

"You're very hungry today Merlin," Gaius observed.

Merlin sipped some stew away from the solid food before taking the contents off the metal spoon. "I could eat a horse," Merlin replied, chewing the chicken and tomato in his mouth.

"You deserve it, my boy." Gaius ate with Merlin whilst talking about the attack the sorcerer had tried to hit Arthur with and just the general day with his ward. Living a normal life was all Merlin had ever really wanted, but his magic had hindered that for him, but Gaius gave him a sense of normality in Camelot that he'd been so desperately searching for. It was this memory that Merlin cherished most; the times where he'd have a terrible day, or just a tiring one which always involved something to do with Arthur, and Gaius would be there to cook something for Merlin and provide him with some form of comfort. His mother did the same, and he was glad he had Gaius as a figure for him here in Camelot.

But that figure was not here now to guide him.

Everything that Merlin cherished wasn't there for him now, or it was now being used against him to inflict pain on him. Lancelot was the only person he could confide his magic with apart from Gaius and his mother, but he was dead now. He felt so much better when he could use magic in front of another person when they were in danger and not be hated for it, but be thanked and praised. Freya was gone too, the only other person he felt most happy with, almost complete. Arthur and he held a destiny together, but with Freya, he felt as if he could rise above his destiny and be with her and his magic. And now she was gone with Lancelot. He only had a short amount of time to spend with his father, and he kept his carving of a dragon close to him. However, his only keepsake from his father was back in Camelot, so he was left with nothing but the memory of it to comfort him. Merlin wished he could have spent more time with Balinor, but he was gone too.

Lancelot, Freya, Balinor, who else would die? Who else would he have to lose to keep his destiny alive? Lancelot got in the way of Arthur and Gwen's relationship, Freya almost halted his destiny completely, and Balinor had the Dragon Lord Powers Merlin needed to have to control the Great Dragon back in Camelot. When would Gaius, his mother or Gwaine die? Will was already dead from saving Arthur, so when would Gwaine or any of the other knights fall to the same fate? It was so cruel for him to think of these thoughts at these times, but Merlin felt he had to, to get over the fact he may never the faces of the people he loved ever again if Morgana and Mordred won.

But Merlin would not let them win. They would not rule Camelot, and they would not stop Arthur from being King. _I wonder when they'll die from tampering with our destiny_, Merlin thought ironically to himself.

Then something stirred in his body. Merlin crawled out of the dark spaces of his mind, and let out a wince as the pain was brought back to him. He could feel his legs moving and bending, but they were not walking along the floor: they were floating in the air, being supported by a frame or bar underneath the crook between his knees. This bar, though, was warm and soft, so not metal, and the end of the bar gripped his knees like fingers. A hand and arm; he was being lifted by a person. A similar feeling lifted his back away from the floor, and more pain flickered from where the whip had marked his back. A voice called to Merlin, but he couldn't make it out. A man's perhaps? _Not Mordred_, Merlin panicked, letting a scared breath escape his lips.

No, this voice wasn't Mordred's, which was filled with ice, hate and rage. No, this voice was warm, sweet, but stern and brave, and strangely familiar.

The man lifted Merlin from the ground carefully and gracefully, his arms full of strength to be able to carry Merlin. The warlock crawled back further and further to his conscious mind, letting more pain hit him like a slap, but Merlin ignored it. He had to see who this person was.

The pain grew and grew and grew until it was no longer bearable, but Merlin kept trying to open his eyes, even if they were just slits. The swaying motion his body was in didn't help, so he used his magic to numb himself, whispering quiet words to different parts of his body inside his head to get them to calm down. Over time, Merlin could get over the numbing pain, but his magic was weak, and the spell would not last for long, but he had to see.

Then, he opened his eyes.

The man was pale, but not white like Merlin. He had a healthy glow to his skin, which was now wet with sweat from the heat created by the heavy armour he was fashioning. Blonde, matted hair was sticking to this very skin, and his blue eyes were filled with concern, guilt and determination, those all too familiar eyes. His mouth was clenched as he carried Merlin, and the servant knew exactly who this person was.

He waited on this man day and night, bringing him food, tidying his room, but was also there when this man was sad, angry and confused. His life was bound to his, a bright future foretold with their friendship.

"Arthur," Merlin managed to groan before the pain returned to him, and his mind flooded back to his subconscious, but it was okay now.

Arthur was here to rescue him.

* * *

Only animals seemed to stir as Morgana looked through the forests of Camelot. The tracks she followed were too obscure for her to know whether it was truly Arthur and the knights, or a herd of deer, but she followed them anyway. In fact, she followed several different tracks, all leading her to dead ends where no man or animal could climb out of, especially with horses, or to places where no animals would set foot, so hunting would be out of an option.

Morgana huffed and pulled her dress up to her knees as she crossed a river, hoping some new tracks could lead her to Arthur. There were none at all, and Arthur was nowhere to be found.

"Argh!" She shouted. She needed Camelot soon, and Arthur was not helping her. Merlin would be punished for Arthur's appalling punctuality later tonight if Mordred hadn't done a good enough job on the manservant, and a smile crept up on her lips at the guilt Arthur would feel if he knew Merlin's injuries were caused because of his actions. More fuel for the fire, and more fire in her influence on Arthur.

Morgana decided she was truly lost, and Arthur was nowhere near her, so she picked dropped her black, laced dress, and sat on a dry log in the forest.

Dawn was breaking, and purple, orange and blue shades were beginning to paint the sky that morning. In between the branches of the trees that grew in the area, the bright spokes from the sun shone through, almost blinding Morgana as it gave her light to her bleak, dark world. Her eyes adjusted, and she looked properly at this part of the woods: small flowers, with pink and white petals, were dotted all over the grass, which grew long, but thin and fine. Moss wound up the thick branches along the trees, accentuating the height the trees grew to. The crisp colours of the sky, mixed with the flowers, grass, moss and the many dew drops which coated the forest floor – but not the log – all created the perfect picture of heaven.

But it wasn't heaven for Morgana. No, heaven for her was having Camelot under a firm grip, the people accepting of her and magic finally free and rid of Arthur Pendragon, and she would not rest until she had her heaven in her hands.

She looked down to the golden bracelet on her wrist. It had been one of the few things Morguase had left to her before she passed, and she wore it every day and every night in memory of her. She once tried to swap it in exchange for information about Emrys – or Merlin, as she now knew – which she knew she would regret, and she did. Thank Gods the man was kind enough to realise that it had meant a lot to her, and let her keep it, for now she needed the comfort that Morgause was watching her, praising her that what she was doing was the right thing to do.

Now, Mordred was the only family she had left. He wasn't a brother, or her son, but he felt like one. Morgana felt a protectiveness over him, something she'd never felt over anyone else before. He shared her thoughts and ideals, and was open about his own, as well as being a powerful warlock. She wanted to go back to the castle, to make sure he was okay, and that Merlin was still under control, but she needed some time alone in this forest, with the presence of Morguase all around her.

Maybe this place was heaven.

"Arthur won't be here, Morgana. You can wait a few days until he returns to Camelot," Morgana told herself. "Besides," a small smirk flashed along her face. "You can have some fun with poor Merlin while Arthur is away."

She stood up, chuckling, and prepared herself to return to the castle. _"Bedyrne __mé__! Astýre __mé__ þanonweard!_" The long grass began to entwine around her billowing dress, and the petals form the flowers were ripped away from their bodies as the sky became lighter and bluer, and the magic flowing from Morgana's veins spread outwards, encasing her, and dragging her mind, body and soul away from the forest, and back to the dark ruins of the castle.

The sky was the same at the forest at the castle, but things were not so heavenly.

Mordred was stumbling in the courtyard, four men attacking him with their swords. His young body was so much smaller than theirs, even if he had aged, and he was too panic stricken and shocked to use his magic. Instead, he was blocking all their attacks weakly with his own sword, unable to do much more. Hatred and anger boiled in Morgana's blood, which was still infused with her magic, and the full force of her mother-like instincts blew and snapped at the four men, who she seemed to recognise. The fighters fell down like rag dolls as her eyes flashed gold and her hand wiped them clean away. Mordred panted, still blindly swinging his sword, vulnerable without his magic.

Morgana ran over desperately to him, and cupped his face.

"I-I don't know what happened, Morgana. One minute I was heading to my bedroom, and the next they were on me. I couldn't do anything," Mordred stuttered.

"It's okay, Mordred, I'm here now," Morgana comforted. Her hand gently stroked his cheek

"I managed to get them outside, though," he said, moving his finger towards the castle. The front door had been completely blown off, a larger, newer pile of rocks at the foot of the castle.

"You see, you did do something," Morgana praised. "Just make sure you're ready for another attack."

"Don't worry, I will be. They won't know what's hit them," Mordred smirked, magic at the ready and growing inside him. It was then that they both noticed a movement in the shadows to the sides of them. It was only small, but it was enough to make the protective instincts flare up again inside Morgana. Her stomach churned and Mordred eyed her curiously, wondering why a shadow was making her so on edge.

Morgana couldn't even explain that herself.

Suddenly, the body – no, two bodies – came out from their hiding place behind the foliage. Dark, bloody fabrics were being carried by shiny chain mail, and something rose in both Morgana and Mordred. Instantly, their magic clicked and became one, uniting to throw the two men – well, one man – of their feet. The man in chain mail was Arthur, who was carrying a lifeless Merlin.

But he wasn't carrying him anymore.

"Let's finish this, Arthur Pendragon."

* * *

_Time Jump_

No one really knew what to do when the screaming had ended; hearing their friend shriek and cry in scrutinising pain was almost unbearable. Both Arthur and Gwaine had risked the element of surprise by nearly charging into the castle below their makeshift camp, but Leon had held them back, claiming that their entire rescue mission could have been jeopardised if they ran down to the castle now with Morgana still torturing Merlin. Not only would the surprise be lost, but she would have the advantage of having a weak Merlin in her control, thus controlling Arthur.

It hadn't been the time then, but now that the screaming had stopped, both Gwaine and Arthur were growing impatient.

"How long is it until we destroy her?" Gwaine growled, sword ready in his hand. The blade on his sword had been polished to an inch of its life over the course of the night. Since he hadn't been allowed to go in and get Merlin before any life threatening injuries had been given to his friend, he'd had to resort to doing the jobs Merlin had done under the knights' service: cooking and cleaning; polishing armour and swords; making sure the horses were rested and well fed. The little things made him hope Merlin would be alright, and appreciative of what Merlin did every day.

Arthur should be lucky: a servant's job was no easy task, and he felt his blood boil at the memory of what Arthur said to Merlin before Morgana took him. It was as if Arthur didn't realise what Merlin did every day that made him so tired, so hungry and so late to everything, and Gwaine hoped Arthur realised that now.

Meanwhile, Arthur was stepping back and forth, every inch of his body ready to run inside the huge, menacing Castle of Albion below him. After long observation, Arthur had noticed miniature black flags, which would be large and beautiful up close, with tiny silver markings in the middle. Rips and tears were noticeable along the fabric of the flags and banners that held the crest of Albion and the destroyed areas of the castle showed Arthur that a large and brutal battle had torn the castle and the family inside their home, to shreds. Now, it was his turn to rip Morgana to shreds for all the violent things she had been doing to Merlin over the night, and to reclaim his friend. He was so desperate to apologise to him for all the stupid, arrogant things he said to him that night, and he knew today would be the day.

Well, he hoped so anyway.

Arthur's muscles stiffened when the screaming eventually stopped. Both he and Gwaine looked straight to Leon for assurance that the surprise element would still be with them if they moved now. Leon nodded, and Arthur and Gwaine were the first two to charge down the dense forest and to the castle.

_Hold on, Merlin, we're coming for you._

Miscellaneous twigs and sticks stuck out from the body of trees they grew on, and whipped Arthur's face ever so slightly. _What if Merlin was whipped?_ Arthur suddenly thought to himself. His stomach churned at the thought of Merlin's body with large gashes from a deadly whip held by Morgana's ice-cold hands, and he wretched ever so slightly as he ran. Gwaine was necking ahead of him, and the rest of the Knights were following suit a few feet behind him, swords at the ready. Gwaine was clutching a large brown-string bag, no doubt housing the Powder Bombs and Colour Sticks he'd been bragging about on the first night of their departure.

They neared the castle, and slowed their pace down, making sure their footsteps were silent, to not disturb the animals or Morgana. With every step, Arthur grew more impatient, but held his nerve. Gwaine's hand was tensing over his sword, and Arthur noticed: he wanted to run with just the same ferocity as Arthur did, and just the same amount of impatience. Stealth took over their bodies, though, and they drew closer without drawing attention to themselves.

Leon stopped the group just outside the castle. "Gwaine, I think it's time you showed us how to use those rocks of yours."

"Colour Sticks and Powder Bombs, Leon, not just rocks of mine," Gwaine started. Leon moved his head slightly lower, and Gwaine reacted by giving him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I just want to get in there as soon as possible."

"We all do," Elyan comforted.

Gwaine dove deep into his bag, and handed out Powder Bomb and Colour Sticks to everyone. "You've all got two each, just in case, but I think we'll only need to use one of each," Gwaine began to explain. "For the Powder Bombs, we light up the powder inside the bag, throw it, and let it work its magic."

"I thought you said there was no magic involved?" Arthur protested.

"Sorry, wrong choice of words – we'll just let them work their... stuff?" The knights all laughed at Gwaine's new choice of words for his inventions, and their thoughts were lifted for just a second. "Okay guys, you can shut up now."

They didn't.

"Hey, come on, do you want to rescue Merlin or not?"

That made them quiet.

"Good. The Colour Sticks are meant to be lit at the end of this piece of string." His index finger and thumb grabbed the tiny end of the oily string at the end of the badly carved sticks of rock. "The fire will burn inside the stick, until sparks of colour are released. It'll distract Morgana, along with the smoke from the Powder Bombs, and act as a flare in case one of us gets separated or injured. They're also pretty damn good at marking the ground if you get lost."

"Never knew you were the type to be interested in rocks," Percival said, still smiling. Leon sniggered.

"Let's just get this over with," Arthur intervened, watching Gwaine preparing for a sarcastic-line-off with the others. There was just no time now.

Natural instincts crawled back again into their bodies, and they moved like lions on a hunt towards the castle. As they drew closer, Arthur could fully identify the state of the castle: bricks had crumbled away from years of erosion, but looked as if they had been helped by the force of catapults, and Arthur took in the huge boulders that covered areas of the castle that were heavily damaged; the flags had begun to rot away, and had been torn through the middle of their material from sharp swords in battle – their tares looked like the cuts you would find on someone who had been mortally wounded; weeds, roots and other dark, ugly plants had grew and weaved away into the very heart of the castle's walls, making it even weaker than it already was. All Morgana would have to do was click her fingers and the whole place would fall to pieces in a matter of seconds.

Arthur gulped away his nerves, and continued. His back became firmer, and his shoulders stiffened as he prepared himself for an attack. They entered the courtyard, hiding behind awkwardly growing trees and broken pillars to near themselves to the castle's broken front door. Huge boulders lay scattered at the entrance, but it was an easy job for them all to clamber over them. Carrying Merlin, however, would be a much more difficult task.

"Remember, only use Gwaine's toys if we absolutely must," Arthur whispered. Gwaine glared at him, but gave him a forgiving smile: Merlin was the main priority now.

All five knights crept around the castle, looking out for Morgana. They all clutched their Colour Sticks and Powder Bombs in waiting, swords held in their spare hand. Gwaine had managed to slip them all four matches each, if anything were to happen to the other matches of course. Also, his weapons would be useless without fire to light them.

The castle was like a labyrinth: too many passages led away from one corridor, and the stairs seemed to entwine sideways rather than upwards, like a normal staircase. However, it may have been from the age of the castle, and the fact that people had left it to the dangers of the environment for too long. Many more corridors, passages and wrongly-winding staircases led them to believe that they were lost.

"It's no good, Sire, there has been no trace or sign to the whereabouts of any kind of dungeon. I think we-"

"Shh!" Arthur said, halting Leon's notion. Silence.

Elyan stepped forward. "Arthur I don't hear-"

"Shh!"

The silence lasted longer than last time, and they all heard what Arthur's heightened senses picked up before them: footsteps, and growing ones. They weren't the sound of dainty, female shoes or heels, but of heavy boots, boots that men wore.

_You've got someone to work with you? Didn't realise you still had allies left alive_, Arthur said inside his head. It wasn't a sarcastic comment. No, this was far too serious inside his head. The prospect of Morgana having someone working with her meant she had more power to fight with, be it a sword or magic... or both. Arthur kept his head close to the edge of the wall, and the knights stood behind him, barely breathing. The steps grew and grew, and Arthur's heart nearly jumped out of his ribcage as the figure with the footsteps passed their hiding place, blissfully unaware of the knights standing shocked and still behind him. The man was wearing a green cloak that seemed too short for him, and too worn, like he'd owned it since he was a child. His hair came just below his ears, and was dark and black. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Arthur thought he recognised the figure, yet he hadn't had a good look.

With specific motions of his hands, he sent Gwaine and Elyan to follow the figure. Gwaine looked unhappy that he couldn't rescue Merlin himself, but Arthur noticed an angry smile arise as he realised this was the person who had been torturing Merlin. Morgana wasn't standing with him, so Arthur assumed she was still with Merlin.

But where were the screams of torture?

Thanking his graces that Merlin wasn't being tortured, he turned down the corner the man had walked down, Leon and Percival walking right behind him. There was a boyish scream, but it wasn't Merlin; not too long after, smoke began to fill the corridors, and the angry shouts of Elyan and Gwaine were now resonating through the broken corridors of the castle. If Morgana had heard that, it wouldn't be too long until she went to find her ally.

"You two should go help Gwaine and Elyan," Arthur suggested.

Leon stopped in front of Arthur, worry taking over his face. "But Sire what if Morgana's there?"

"Don't worry, I don't think she will be, not if she cares for her ally," Arthur said. "Go," he ordered.

Leon and Percival curtly nodded their heads in unison, and ran through the smoke back to Gwaine and Elyan.

Arthur was on his own now.

He traced the wall with the blue Colour Stick Gwaine had given him, and he marked his journey. This castle was far too complex for him to get lost in, and he hoped Morgana wouldn't notice his markings if she passed through one of the corridors he was walking down. His pace picked up into a fast jog, then increased to an all out sprint. The stick rubbed gently against the wall when he walked, but was now grinding hard against the stone, making awful shrieks that almost bled Arthur's ears with annoyance. But he could live with it: it was the route to Merlin and then to freedom, after all.

The clashes of swords had faded away long ago, now, and the dampness in the air was rising. Moisture was becoming thicker as he made his way down more awkward staircases, and moss had began to grow on most of the walls and paved the floor a gross green colour. Advantages came from the moss, though: footprints and scuffs indicated that someone had walked down this corridor often and not long ago, so he must be close to Merlin now. He didn't realise how close, though.

Two corners and there he was: Merlin.

The smell in the corridor was vile and disgusting; blood was running along the ground and onto cold stone which looked dirty and muddy from where moss had been ripped from its home.

It wasn't the site of the dungeons that caught him off guard though. No, it was the site of Merlin that made tears well inside his eyes, that made guilt rush over him like a wave and that made him want to kill Morgana and her accomplice right then because of what they'd done to Merlin.

His manservant was lying oddly on the floor, but still. Too still for Arthur's liking, but the slow rise and fall of Merlin's chest was enough to send relief through his guilty veins. His clothes were ripped and torn, and the King was surprised at how much of Merlin's skin wasn't showing from how damaged his clothes were, but they weren't what made him wretch in that dungeon: Merlin's skin was bloody, and large gashes, such as the ones Arthur had nightmares off whilst running to the castle, were covering the skin along his stomach, torso and back. His dark blue shirt was now near black from how much blood it had absorbed and dried, and made a definite contrast against Merlin's pale skin colour, which was much whiter than it usually was. His raven-black hair was longer than before, but matted with blood, and one of his arms was glowing red with sharp cuts, which were starting to gather white matter around them. This was what Gaius had described to him as infection, when he was a young boy and cut his arm while training to be a knight. Merlin's injuries were not from training, though: they were from cruel torture which shouldn't have even come to pass if Arthur hadn't been so arrogant and rude to Merlin in the first place.

Arthur got over the nauseous feeling in his stomach, and he slid over to Merlin's cell, which had been locked. He pressed his head between the bars, and frowned. "I'm so sorry Merlin," he whimpered to the sleeping servant. "I was so stupid, and arrogant and selfish, and I wish I could take back what I said that night. I hope you can forgive me for all that's happened, and I promise you that when we get back home, that stupid law dictating servants can't eat Knights' food will be abolished and you can come on hunting trips without having to worry about yourself. We'll look after you better in the future," Arthur promised. Weariness and sorry were beginning to shadow him.

Arthur rose from his position, and thrust out Excalibur – Merlin had decided to call that sword its proper name after Arthur had pulled it out from the stone. It had brought him good fortune, and he hoped that if, magic had been used on the lock, he would be able to free Merlin with it. His gloved hand gripped the hilt of the sword, and he lunged on the lock, forcing it open with his perfectly-balanced blade. Golden sparks flew from the gate, and the door was realised. Arthur quickly returned his sword into its leather sheath, and ran full force at Merlin.

"My God, what has happened to you Merlin?" Arthur said, trying not to hurt Merlin by touching his wounds. "I'll get you to Gaius. He'll know how to make you better," Arthur promised again.

He fixed his hands underneath Merlin's light, limp body, and slowly, but gently picked him up from the floor. Once his legs were lifted from the ground, Merlin's leg twitched in pain. A gasp flew from his mouth, but his eyes never flickered open, and Arthur could feel something inside him cry out for Merlin, wanting his pain to end. His other hand then took his back away from the floor, and Merlin let out another, louder gasp accompanied with a painful groan, but, again, his eyes never once moved, unless to be contorted in pain. Arthur quietly repeated whispers of 'I'm sorry' to Merlin in the hope he'd wake.

He didn't.

Arthur raced with Merlin, still clutching onto Gwaine's gifts underneath Merlin's weight. As he was running, Merlin groaned his name. It was so quiet that Arthur didn't register it at first, but when he caught a small glimpse of Merlin's eyes closing shut, he knew Merlin was still fighting inside. With new found strength, he followed the blue line he'd drawn on his way to find Merlin, until he came to the point where he'd first caught his glimpse of Morgana's ally. The fight wasn't in the corridor anymore. Flashes of red and orange were the only thing to guide him through the grey tunnels, littered with black flags, and out to the courtyard where Arthur began to observe the fight taking place.

The man was stumbling in the courtyard, his Knights attacking him with their swords. His young body was so much smaller than theirs and he was too panic stricken and shocked to fully fight back. Instead, he was blocking all their attacks weakly with his own sword, unable to do much more. He was about to place Merlin behind cover, and silently knock the man out when he wasn't looking so they could escape, when something snapped at Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Leon. The Knights fell down like rag dolls, but the man was panting, still blindly swinging his sword. It couldn't have been him to cause that fall.

Then, the figure of Morgana ran over desperately to her ally, and cupped his face. He was more than just an ally. Arthur managed to get a better look at his face in the light, and the adult face of Mordred was now looking up shocked and vulnerable to Morgana. They were almost like a family.

Arthur took his chance, and bolted for the first tree when they were too busy fussing over themselves. Merlin still hadn't said anything more, and he hoped his idiot of a friend would stay quiet until they'd escaped and found shelter. Arthur would return to the knights once Merlin was safe. Morgana and Mordred still hadn't noticed Arthur, so he took his second chance, and ran stealthily to a half broken pillar in the courtyard. He was about to run for the last tree before the gate, until Morgana began to look over where Arthur was hiding.

It's now or never. Arthur ran into nearby foliage, where the most cover was available, and then ran straight for the broken gate. Then, a cold, powerful feeling erupted in the courtyard square, and Arthur was knocked off his feet, Merlin flinging away from his grasp.

Morgana then walked closer to Arthur. "Let's finish this, Arthur Pendragon."

* * *

**Phew, this was probably the longest Chapter I have ever written in my life. I hope it was worth the effort – and the lateness.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Glad I'm not late this time! Since my Summer Holidays have arrived, I won't be so busy. Maybe some Chapters will be posted early? I don't know you'll just have to wait and see...**

**Thanks for the responses to Chapter 8, they were all wonderful and made me determined to keep up with my 'deadline'. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Merlin and I never will.**

* * *

Arthur sat winded on the ground, looking worriedly over to Merlin. He'd still remained unconscious, even after the burst of magic that both Morgana and Mordred had thrown at them. The witch was now moving towards Mordred, a sly grin written all over her face. She pointed her hand towards Mordred's sword, and he gave it to her, nodding his head in a secret agreement. Arthur sluggishly removed his own sword from its sheath, his head spinning from the blow to the floor. His trusty blade was still perfectly balanced, the gold strip down the middle gleaming in the fading sunlight: he knew Morgana wanted to fight him.

"Would you fight a powerless man, Morgana? Would you fight a man who has no magic and who is also your brother?" Arthur started, pushing himself up from the ground. "Are you really that unfair?"

"Since when have ever been fair? And since when did you care about having magic or not: you've never lost before," Morgana retorted. "Or maybe you should have acquired a sorcerer to fight this battle for you if you feel you're going to lose," she toyed. Her eyes flickered to Merlin with amusement

_She will not have him back_, Arthur silently promised. He clenched his jaw, and gripped his sword firmly in protection and defence, ready for Morgana's impending attack.

"_Mín áflygennes__diht áhnescian mín áglæca twiþráwen-eodor,"_ Morgana murmured to Mordred's sword. Arthur could only watch as the blade in her hand started to warm and glow the same golden colour as her eyes, which swam with powerful magic. Arthur worried at the thought of what Morgana had cast upon her sword, but focused more on keeping Merlin safe. He kept his legs relaxed and slightly bent to absorb any form of shock that could be thrown at him, and made his body frame wide, set out to protect the one lying behind him.

The Knights still hadn't woken yet: it was down to him.

Morgana copied Arthur's stance, but with more attack and less defence in her form, and Arthur turned his sword in a fancy flick his father had taught him when he was just a boy; it was used to show off a fighters skill and ability with a sword, and was simple to master. It wasn't long before Arthur, as a boy, was challenging his friends, making them aware of just how good a fighter he was and how good he was going to get. Now it was the time when that flick would count the most against a powerful sorceress, who had more power than he could imagine.

Morgana and Arthur ran to each other, clashing their swords. Morgana's blade sparked with magic, and something was sent down Arthur's body. It shook his bones and made his muscles ache, making the very essence of his soul tremble, but Morgana would have to do a lot more to get Arthur to fall. He moved his sword away, which was now set wide to his body. He swung with huge force, and the blade once again hit Morgana's defence. Again, it sparked, and something painful was sent through his body. His arms were now aching with such pain that could only be acquired from a fight twice as long and twice as ferocious: it was Morgana's magic. The spell that she'd cast had made Arthur more vulnerable to attack, elevating his pain and energy he would have to expel. Sweat was now dripped along Arthur's brow as the magic turned his body heat up and more energy was destroyed.

Morgana remained cool and dry, the spell not affecting her in the slightest, a small grin etching onto her pale face as she saw her magic working inside her brother. This time, she was the one to pull away after observing Arthur for a few seconds. Arthur could only raise his sword in defence as his eyes watched Morgana swing down her old, battered blade against his relatively new, stronger blade, and felt his muscles begin to turn to jelly, shaking and wobbling inside his skin. His legs felt like his arms, and were struggling to hold him up. Morgana unleashed her ferocity, and gave hit after hit after hit until her magic made Arthur so weak he could barely keep his eyes open and his body upright. His chest was now closing up, removing the access to his lungs, and air was becoming harder to intake.

Arthur was struck to the ground, beaten, shaken and sweaty from Morgana's uproar. The tip of her blade was nagging dangerously close to his throat – one wrong move and that would be the end of him, and the end of Merlin's only hope of escape.

The Knights still hadn't woken up yet.

Morgana pressed the blade gently into his skin, and Arthur felt the back of his head touch the floor. "Have you changed your mind about abdicating the throne yet, _King_ Arthur?" She sneered.

"You will never sit upon the throne of Camelot, Morgana!"

"This is your last chance, Arthur, before the fun starts," she said.

Arthur remained firm and true, and shook his head along the ground. Small stones and gravel were now merging with his hair, and scraping his scalp. _That will be nothing compared to what she'll do to you_, Arthur told himself, as the stones nibbled on his head. _You need to think of something, now!_

"Mordred, you know what to do," Morgana called. Arthur look at her, slightly confused. Wasn't she supposed to be torturing him for Camelot?

And then he remembered the one thing he was supposed to protect, for exactly this reason: Merlin – he was supposed to not let him fall back into their hands.

He had failed: Morgana lifted the pressure from her sword slightly, and he was able to turn his head to face Merlin, who now had Mordred leaning over him, face full of focus. There was no spell, no incantation for Mordred to mutter, unlike Morgana, but his eyes glowed the same colour the witch's irises. He was helpless, and unable to intervene, as Mordred place his hands over Merlin's temples, and his servant's eyes suddenly flew open. His blue eyes were contorted in pain, and seemed disturbed and horrified to waking so soon. His eyes were both wide and squinted – wide from the pain and terror that Mordred had injected inside him, squinted from the bright light that he'd woken to (or, at least brighter than what he was accustomed to now). At the awakening of his sight, his body began to visibly shake. His muscles were tensing underneath Mordred's magic, and he was unable to hold back a deafening shriek of desperation and hurt.

Arthur could feel tears well up in his eyes again, but let them flow this time: he'd told Merlin no man was worth your tears, but he felt Merlin would be the exception. The only other people he'd cry for would be his father – who he'd already shed tears for on his deathbed – and Gwen. He didn't care that Morgana was standing over him, and he didn't care if Merlin was nothing more than a servant. No, he was more than that: he was more than just a servant.

It was strange how noble and brave Merlin was. He'd stood by Arthur so many countless times, fighting armies and creatures he had no hope of fighting against, but remained true to Arthur, his Knights and Camelot when its fall seemed inevitable. Also, it seemed Camelot escaped destruction because of Merlin; Arthur would have fallen victim for Mary Collins all those years ago when he'd first met Merlin, and if Merlin had left after that day, where would he be standing now?

Merlin calmed down from his abrupt, painful arrival back to consciousness, and only worry could be seen on his face. Not for himself, of course, but for Arthur, whose eyes were locked in a similar state with Merlin's. However, their gaze was not held for long, as Mordred violently pulled Merlin from the ground. His dark shirt was growing darker, a faint gloss of shine seeping through the fabric – he was bleeding again. He held his body wearily, and was mostly standing from the aid of Mordred, who had his arms twisted violently behind his back and had placed a dagger to Merlin's throat, just as Morgana was pointing her sword to Arthur's. His dagger, however, was not his own: it was the one Arthur had given to Morgana for her birthday, which was laden with red, crimson jewels and the most reflective blade Arthur had ever come across.

And now it was being used against the person who advised Arthur to get her something more feminine than a simple dagger.

Morgana re-pressed the blade to Arthur's throat, and bent lower to her brother. "Will you give up now?" She said.

"I will never give up the throne of Camelot to you, Morgana," he spat.

"Not even for Merlin?" She crooned sarcastically. The tip of her sword was now digging into his throat, releasing a small current of blood down his neck.

Arthur looked to Merlin, who was shaking his head ever so slightly at Morgana's words. "Not even for Merlin."

"That's such a shame," she started. "Such a waste of a friendship. I thought you and Merlin were supposed to be more than just a King and his Servant. From what I observed, you two had a kind of connection no master and slave ever had, or does that mean nothing to you? Was it an act to make you look like a better King?"

"_Merlin was not my slave. He was my friend_!" Merlin lifted his head up as Arthur said that sentence, and something inside his friend glowed and smiled. It almost made Arthur smile to see something in Merlin shine through this ordeal, but kept up his facade with Morgana. "He still is my friend."

"Then why would you let him die to protect Camelot?" She interrogated.

Arthur leant his head back to the floor. "You don't understand, Morgana. You don't understand the loyalty that Merlin has towards Camelot. Time and time again I've tried to send him back from quests or tried to stop him from coming to battles with me, but he won't have it. He once told me he'd die by my side to protect Camelot and to save me, and I have no doubt that he would never give up his word, not for anything. Above all, though, I have faith and trust with him, and I know that if I were to die, he would never forgive himself, even if he wasn't supposed to protect me. That, Morgana, is what true friendship and loyalty is."

Morgana turned the blade to the side, and dug it in deeper to his neck. "You seem to misunderstand me then, Arthur; I do have loyalties, and I do understand what true friendship is. Look at Mordred and I. I wouldn't know what to do if I lost him, and for your blind thoughts and your stubbornness, you've left me no other choice," Morgana whispered to him. "You've just sacrificed your greatest defence," she smiled evilly. Arthur was somewhat confused at this remark. He was well aware of how brave and – sometimes – wise Merlin could be, but he didn't think for once that Merlin could _defend_ Camelot. He was only _Merlin_ after all, but the way Morgana spoke that last phrase, he knew there was a double meaning.

The witch leaned away from Arthur, and straightened her stance to her normal height. Arthur tried to pull himself up as he realised what was happening, but was hit by a slamming force from Morgana, whose hand magically pinned him against the floor. He was unable to move, unable to help as his friend struggled underneath the iron grip that Mordred held Merlin in. He was only able to watch as Morgana walked slowly and incredulously towards Merlin, pointing the blade that dripped with Arthur's blood at Merlin's stomach.

"_NO!_" Was the last thing Arthur could say before Morgana would give Merlin the final blow.

* * *

The awakening had been disorientating and painful for Merlin. It was horrible feeling your very soul being struck and torn away from its sheltered hiding place, but opening your eyes to a blinding light and unimaginable hurt was something that completely threw Merlin off track. He didn't care who was watching him or who had woken him, but only to pull through what felt like what he'd had to endure for the past two days _all over again_. Only when the pain had passed and reality sunk was when Merlin had realised what was going on.

There, lay out in front of his eyes, was Arthur struck down onto the floor, Morgana holding her sword to his neck; the knights were all unconscious to the far side of the courtyard, unable to aid him or Arthur; Mordred was leaning over his body, awaiting a signal from Morgana. Then, Merlin realised he wasn't waiting on Morgana as he pulled Merlin violently from the ground. Merlin could feel the gashes made from the whip already opening again, and he hoped Arthur hadn't lifted his shirt at all before this day: his ribs felt sore and bruised, and every breath he took physically hurt him. Gaius' teachings told him that his ribs were most likely broken, and he did not want Arthur worrying about him more than he already did.

Mordred spun him around to face Morgana and Arthur, and his vision began to spin. He could feel the muscles in his body failing him, and his legs were about to give way until Mordred caught him. The Druid then pulled out Morgana's jewelled dagger, and pinned it near to Merlin's throat. The blade was cold and sharp, and he kept himself from struggling too much in Mordred's hands.

Morgana was still demanding for the throne of Camelot, and Arthur was still being stubborn, turning down everything she had said. Merlin felt his magic crawling around his body, still weak from all that he'd been through in this castle. He could feel his body shutting down, allowing his magic to roam freely and group back together from its dispersed state.

"_Merlin was not my slave. He was my friend_!" Merlin lifted his head up as Arthur said that sentence, and he could feel something warm grow inside his body. _Arthur called me his friend!_ Merlin thought excitedly to himself. Something inside Arthur's eyes told Merlin that he'd noticed his reaction, and seemed... almost happy, but kept up his facade with Morgana. "He still is my friend."

_This can't be happening,_ Merlin then thought gravely. _The one moment he declares me as his friend, his equal, and this is the moment something terrible it going to happen_. Merlin then re-closed his eyes, and let his magic float in his veins. He could feel every cell of magical lust grow more powerful in every vein until they became a cell of real magical power for him to use. That was how his magic worked: when he slept, his magic that he'd expelled regrouped as a lust, a want or a need, but it was so instinctual that it was virtually breathing for Merlin. It swelled and grew, and Mordred sensed him. He pulled the dagger tighter to Merlin's throat, and shook his broken arms to snap him out of his weak slumber. As soon as Merlin's eyes opened, he could see Morgana rising steadily above Arthur, whose face was contorting with guilt and desperation for another way out of their situation.

After hearing what Arthur had said about him, about how he called him his friend, about his loyalty to Camelot was nothing like he'd ever seen before and that he trusted him, that was enough to pull his magic inside together before Mordred could stop him. He could hear Mordred suck in a large breath in panic, and he seized his opportunity: with pure instinct, he allowed his magic to course through his veins, and sent his power outside his body. His eyes glowed from the reaction, and Morgana was frozen in place. Her face was sealed in her confused expression towards Mordred, her arm outstretched with sword in hand. Merlin released another wave of magic, toppling the live statue of Morgana onto the floor next to Arthur.

Arthur, meanwhile, released a breath he didn't realise he was holding, and relaxed his muscles in relief. His body was free to move now that Morgana had no control over her magic, and Arthur's jaw was free to drop at the realisation that Merlin was a sorcerer. Merlin could see Arthur slowly moving his gaze towards him, a look of uncertainty in his eyes, especially after what he'd told Morgana.

Arthur knew now.

In the instant Merlin saw Arthur staring at him intently over magic, Mordred drew the dagger away from Merlin's throat, but, instead of slitting the flesh that he'd been threatening for the past few minutes, he plunged it straight into Merlin's back. Merlin's back bucked as the metal made contact with his body, which was now screaming in pain. Tears rolled down his eyes, and Arthur was shouting at Mordred to stop, clumsily getting up from the floor with his sword waving in the air. Mordred took out the dagger from Merlin's red, puffy back, smiling at his actions. Merlin, however, was not smiling.

As Arthur ran stupidly towards a much-more-powerful Mordred, Merlin grabbed his waist to stop him. The King was stronger than Merlin was, but managed to hold his weight when Merlin touched him. Arthur shot him a pained, vengeful look at what Mordred had done to him, but calmed down when Merlin shook his head in shame. Arthur stepped back, and Merlin was grateful. He mustered his magic once again, with much more urgency, though, and imagined the place around him.

He imagined a part of the courtyard floor cracking underneath Mordred's step, the roots from the trees springing up from their underground homes to trip to the sorcerer up and tangling him amongst the green roots. He imagined a great storm rolling in above castle, sending down an oblivion of rain over both Morgana and Mordred. He then took every instinctual and taught piece of magic he'd ever used and known and buried it underneath the ground and sending it high into the side. His magic connected with the elements above and below, and the whole area around him shook. He opened his eyes, revealing the longest flash of gold his magic had ever produced.

And then it started.

Left over magic set off Arthur's Colour Stick, which had rolled off somewhere in the middle of the courtyard near the Knights. Vibrations were reverberating underneath Merlin's feet, and rolled closer to Mordred, who was now running for his life. The ground then burst, throwing the cobble-stones from the courtyard all around them, and revealed long, dirty plant roots that were thick, fast and deadly. There were one, two... ten bursts from the ground, with more roots rising from the soiled edges of the forest encasing the castle. The nagged and pulled at Mordred's clothes, one tripping him over and sending him on his face. The roots then wrapped around the young man, who's magic was powerless to fend them off.

Merlin snuck a quick glance at Arthur: his eyes were staring at the scene around him, utterly shocked at how powerful Merlin was. _If he doesn't accept me now..._ Merlin dismissed this thought, and continued with the plan set.

Mordred was drowning in a sea of green roots and vines in the courtyard, the only light being the bright blue flare which had accidently caught alight. The sky was vastly becoming a dark grey, more on the verge of black, and great rolls of cracking thunder boomed throughout the castle of Albion. The echoes set everyone's nerves shaking, and Merlin could see Morgana quaking slightly inside the shell of her frozen body. Suddenly, the rain fell, and it fell hard. The stone floor was instantly soaked with cold rain, which rushed off the stone and sunk into the soil below from where the roots had exploded. Everyone in the courtyard was drenched head to foot, with Merlin's clothes only just about sticking to his thin framed body. Blood was mixed with the rain that fell on him, but he stayed upright, intent on watching Arthur's reaction now.

Arthur wasn't as shocked as before: he was mostly scared, scared of what Merlin could do if he closed his eyes. He was also angry, angry that Merlin hadn't been able to save himself with all the magic he possessed, and then he felt ashamed for thinking that. No one could just unleash powers beyond human limitations while under heavy torture, could they? If anything, now, he was more confused as to why the flare was still glowing miraculously underneath the downpour of rain.

Merlin made a motion with his hand, and everything stopped. The roots retracted from their firm grasp over Mordred, and slugged back to their homes underneath the earth they stood upon. The rain ceased, and the thunderous clouds moved away, dispersing until only blue sky remained. The string on the flare was cut short, and no more blue light was radiated from the stick. It was over.

Morgana was trapped in her frozen form, and Mordred was lying in a heap on the floor, covered in soil and green stains from the roots. He was unconscious, bleeding slightly at the head. The Knights were rousing from their slumber, seeming confused as to the mess of the castle and why they were so wet.

Merlin felt so weak. He'd never used magic so powerful before, and he'd never been so injured before. He gasped, and felt his head go light and dizzy. Arthur noticed just in time, and was able to grab his manservant before his limbs succumbed completely to fatigue and weariness.

"You won't die today," he heard Arthur say. _Arthur knows, Arthur knows, Arthur knows_, Merlin repeated in his head. _Arthur knows, he knows now... what do I do?_ He gave in to his bodies needs, as he felt Arthur bring him in closer. He didn't know what Arthur was doing, but at the way he was holding him and by what he had said just a second ago, Merlin registered everything he needed to be told.

Arthur was okay with his magic.

* * *

**Okay, hope that was good... I was a bit nervous with Merlin's magic moment, and Arthur's reaction, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'll try to update soon.**

**PS: What do you think of the new Merlin trailer? I can't wait! Gahh, too many good things come out in September (New Muse album, Series 5 of Merlin..). I don't know if I could cope with all this new stuff, but I'm not complaining.**

**Please Review... if there's anything I can change in this Chapter, tell me and I'll work on it! I want my story to be as good as possible. I don't bite, I swear!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay guys. There has been no excuse for my lateness. I'm extremely sorry, and I hope you can forgive me... and I hope this Chapter is worth the wait!**

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of their characters.**

* * *

Everything was cold. Her whole body was set in this position and had been for hours. Her hand was still wrapped tightly around Mordred's sword, her arm still outstretched from trying to swipe Merlin to the ground. She remembered seeing his eyes blaze gold, just like hers did, until she could feel her body freeze. It all happened so fast: in under a second, every limb, every muscle and every bone had been frozen in place, and, no matter what spell she recited inside her head, she could not undo the damage Merlin had inflicted. She was trapped in this state.

Her eyes and ears could still register the world around her, though. She had witnessed her blade inflict damage towards Merlin's back via Mordred's hand, after the spell made her incapable of killing him herself. She wanted to snort with derision at the expression of Merlin's face when the dagger plunged into his back, but she couldn't. Instead, she had to see Merlin's scrunched face morph into an expression of intention. She wanted to call out to Mordred, to run as Merlin closed his eyes and plunged his magic into the environment around them. Instead, Mordred only paced backwards, sneering at Arthur as Merlin held him back. He should have been running!

Suddenly, Morgana had to watch the ground erupt with gigantic roots, all of which seemed to be chasing Mordred in the courtyard, licking his ankles. She would have cried out, if she had any control over her body, as Mordred was flung to ground, and crushed underneath the vines. Rain struck down like daggers of ice upon her, and she knew the muddy ground below Mordred would be masking him as the roots continued to suppress him. Yet she could do _nothing _to help him; it was pure torture.

After Merlin, his beloved King and the knights fled the scene, Morgana still hadn't found a way to break the spell. She's tried everything she could inside her own mind, but her magic felt as cold as her body did. Somehow, Merlin had found a way to induce the spell upon her magic, too. He was clever, and extremely powerful if he could conjure all those spells with all the injuries he'd sustained.

Morgana decided she would have to wait out the spell; it wasn't going to hold forever. Maybe Mordred would wake up and free her. She doubted it, though. Unfortunately, a lot of time had passed, and Mordred still hadn't roused from his bruised slumber. If Morgana could have cried, she would have. Instead, though, she had to watch the noon sun float above her, almost blinding her eyes, and continue its journey into the trees around her. They seemed so still now. Blazing pinks, pastel oranges and delicate lilacs and blues stained the sky, a dark shade of purple creeping into the horizon opposite the brighter colours, as the sun set behind her. Dusk was upon her, and Arthur and Merlin could be miles away if they had horses.

Then, in the midst of her thoughts, Morgana could feel her right hand warming, her left hand following suit swiftly after. Then both arms seemed to thaw out like they were ice-cubes by a fire. Confused, Morgana dared to move her fingers.

They moved. In fact, the stiff bones gave a slight click under the movements, enough sound to enlighten Morgana. She couldn't see them move, but she could hear them and feel them obeying her mental commands. Her toes then felt like they were on fire, and the flames moved and spread throughout her feet and legs. She wiggled her toes too, and had the same reaction as her fingers: stiffness, a click, then loose, fluid movements were made possible. The heat spread throughout her body until her whole head was engulfed.

It took some time before Morgana could stand: whenever she lifted her head up, a bought of sickness swept through her, and her vision became too blurry to see anything; her legs still felt stiff, but whenever they loosened, they felt more like water than limbs. It took another hour before Morgana could get to feet and hobble over to Mordred.

He was even worse than Morgana.

Brown, dried blood was glued to his own skin as well as the dark fabric of his clothes; bruises emblazoned his body with black and blue, contrasting starkly with his snow white skin. He looked like death had smiled upon him, and had taken him victim. But he wasn't dead. Morgana made sure of that.

In an instant, Morgana had one of her shaky hands covering Mordred's abused forehead, incanting: "forbærning andfangol héafod," over and over again. When she felt sure his head had healed properly, Morgana turned to the rest of his body.

A sudden wave of sadness crept into Morgana: Merlin had _done_ this to Mordred only a few hours ago. He'd cast a spell to hypnotise the plants into his own doing, and _this_ was the result. He'd _hurt_ Mordred. Damn, he'd nearly _killed_ Mordred! Was this how Arthur felt about Morgana and Mordred? He'd seen what they'd done to Merlin, how Merlin was virtually dead... was that why he'd not banished Merlin after witnessing him perform some of the most powerful magic Morgana had ever seen? That was the only saddening sense of empathy Morgana held to her dear 'brother' – knowing you could do nothing but heal the injuries you could not prevent on another - as her weary body made the exasperating effort to heal the broken bones Mordred was sure to have. The bruises had said it all.

"Forbærning þæs scinn, forbærning þæs bán, forbærning andfangol afol swá wit éaðe cyningæðe þæs bregustól," Morgana uttered forcefully, skimming her hands lightly over Mordred's clothes as she spread her magic through the maze of veins inside his body. The magic that pulsed in the earth around her lent her aid, confusingly – only a few hours ago, they had worked with Merlin in order to create this mess. _Magic is a strange, mysterious being_, Morgana mused to herself.

After a few minutes of chanting: "Forbærning þæs scinn, forbærning þæs bán, forbærning andfangol afol swá wit éaðe cyningæðe þæs bregustól," Morgana could finally see that Mordred was making progress: his bruises were yellowing, fading away into his skin which was beginning to lighten and regain its slight colour; bones which had looked slightly out of place to Morgana were beginning to take their rightful places in the body. A smile slipped onto Morgana's sunken, tired face as Mordred's eyes flickered open. If Merlin had been there, he would have thought Morgana had returned to the kind natured, good hearted person she had been only a few years ago.

"How are you?" Morgana said, still smiling.

"'m 'kay," Mordred groaned. "Fel' better."

"Don't worry. Once we've fixed you up, we will have our revenge," Morgana said, her kind smile morphing into an evil smirk.

Mordred sat up, the word revenge echoing inside his ears. "What d'you have 'n mind?"

* * *

_Out of nowhere, Arthur's Colour Stick suddenly caught alight in the distance of the courtyard. Blue flames burst out among the courtyard, sparkling elegantly in the light of the sun. Then, the ground suddenly shook, exploding with the force of a volcano, sprouting out roots and vines from below the ground. Everything around Arthur had suddenly breathed in ferocious life, and it was all Merlin's doing... it was all Merlin's doing... it was all Merlin's doing..._

"...Arthur, what happened back there...is Merlin still alive...how were the holes in the ground made...why are you not answering our questions..."

All talk seemed coherent to Arthur, useless. The Knights should be more fixated on running as fast as they could before Merlin died from his injuries, or at least telling Arthur that they knew some form of treatment for Merlin. If they had no knowledge, then their best bet was to run. Camelot would only be a two day ride if they sprinted the entire length of the journey, through day and night. Yes. The horses would suffer, but with plenty to drink and eat along the way, and with good rest on return to Camelot, they would recover. They'd fare better than Merlin.

No, that was cruel to the horses, as well as Merlin: the ride would be bumpy, risking his injuries, and they would have to keep the wounds clean in case of infection. He knew full well that the horses wouldn't be as fast if they didn't stop to rest, either. Neither would the knights.

Arthur continued to run full force back to the area where they'd left the horses. Even with Merlin flailing aimlessly about in his care, Arthur was the first man back at base.

_Roaring clouds then billowed and swirled above everyone's heads, and fear sent Arthur's blood running cold. Mordred was darting and dodging the hungry roots to no avail, as one clipped his ankle, sending the young man falling to his feet where he would be crushed by every plant surfacing the area. It was all Merlin's doing..._

Arthur's trusty brown mare neighed at the sight of her master, which triggered a chorus of excited horses as Leon, Elyan, Gwaine and Percival gathered behind Arthur and Merlin.

Merlin still hadn't woken up yet. Arthur had decided to let the man rest before they rode out, but for how long? They couldn't wait for very long... no one knew whether Morgana or Mordred was capable of following the men, and when they would decide to engage in combat, for which they would surely lose unless Merlin decided to wake up and save the day.

Now, that was a thought: how many times had Merlin just decided to 'save the day'? How long had Merlin had magic? Had every mysterious escape been at the hands of Arthur's own manservant – his own friend – and was this new turn of events the reason why Merlin came out of gruesome battles almost unscathed? It certainly explained a lot to Arthur, but the others didn't know.

Well, they didn't know yet.

They would soon, though, judging by the amount of questions they bombarded Arthur with almost every second and Arthur's lack of energy and mental stability. He'd just witnessed his most trusted friend perform an act which Arthur hated with every fibre of his being! It was going against everything his father had stood for, everything his father tried to protect him from! Uther had spent over _20 years_ fighting magic users to protect Arthur. They were _all_ evil, they _all_ wanted to see Camelot fall into their hands and make innocent people suffer.

But, Uther had made innocent sorcerers suffer, hadn't he? He had drowned children, just because they were born with magic... and, he burnt people at the stake for just admitting they had magic. He'd nearly sent Gaius – one of the most loyal people Arthur had ever known – to the stake for that same reason. Weren't those kind of magic users just the same as Uther? Morgana seemed to be... even if she didn't realise herself.

_But am I?_ Arthur suddenly thought. _Am I really going to kill my best friend all because he used magic? He saved my life!_ Arthur mused, but when Arthur looked down at Merlin's cold, bruised body, Arthur knew he wasn't like his father: he was going to save him, not send him into the flames to die.

The Ban on Magic would certainly have to be given some thought on...

But, did he have to think about it at all? What if Arthur kept Merlin's magic a secret? Merlin obviously had – though Arthur felt secretly betrayed that Merlin couldn't trust him – and maybe Arthur could keep it that way until he was _completely_ sure on his thoughts about magic.

_But, what about Merlin?_ Arthur thought, suddenly saddened. _Merlin has kept this a secret for his entire life. Surely he should be able to walk free for once in his life, _he continued. The Ban on magic had reduced Merlin's life to secrecy the moment Merlin stepped through the borders into Camelot, and Arthur couldn't even begin to comprehend how much Merlin had to suffer at his own hand, at his own statements about how magic was evil when Merlin had magic himself. Merlin wasn't evil.

"Arthur please!" Gwaine begged, forcing Arthur back to the real world. "Tell us what happened!"

Arthur sighed. "Alright, I'll tell you," he started. "But don't think any different of him, please. I certainly don't."

Elyan and Percival looked to each other, confused. "Why would we think any different of Merlin?"

Arthur paused. "Because what I'm about to tell you goes against everything we are supposed to stand against," Arthur continued. He then looked towards Merlin, who was beginning to rouse. "But first, I think we should cover some ground before night descends and before Merlin is too weary to ride," he ordered.

Time seemed to move slowly for Arthur during the next few hours; the urgency in his voice for Merlin's sake had been sensed by his men, and they all packed their belongings in record time. The horses were ready, but Merlin was drifting in and out of consciousness far too much for Arthur. The poor man could barely sit up, and Arthur really worried how the ride would feel.

"Merlin, are you feeling up for riding?" He asked quietly.

Merlin groaned, but nodded.

Arthur returned the gesture with a warm smile. "I want you to know, I don't think any different of you. What you did out there – I can't thank you enough. You saved us all," Arthur said. "I'm still processing it, but, we'll figure it all when we return home, okay?"

Merlin was still for a second, but nodded again. Then, a small smile crept upon his bruised, bloody face; Arthur felt like the happiest person after seeing just that smile.

They rode on for next few hours until the sun had finally set through the gaps between the trees. Merlin had fallen asleep, his head resting gently on Arthur's shoulder as the rhythmic strides of the horse below them lulled him to sleep.

Arthur felt Merlin needed some proper rest before they continued their ride, so he signalled for the Knights to stop in a small, dense clearing.

Trees stood tall, and menacing, and Arthur couldn't get the image of the power that Merlin had bestowed upon similar plants during the much lighter hours of the day. He could even feel a small fear nagging inside the back of his skull; Merlin would only have to imagine a branch bending and stretching down to breathe life into such an inanimate object. It was terrifying, but Arthur pushed his fear away. It was Merlin, after all.

Gwaine jumped off his horse, immediately setting off to gather firewood for the night as Percival took Merlin away from Arthur's hands, and laid him down by a sloping tree. Percival had perched Merlin on his side, placing his own blanket over Merlin as the bruised servant began to shiver. Night was drawing over, and, without Gwaine's fire, they would all begin to freeze.

Arthur immediately jumped down from his horse, and let Leon and Elyan take his beloved mare to be fed and watered. He inspected the area; no bandits were around that could perform a surprise attack; a small river gently trickled a few minutes away from their camp with fresh water. He would need to alert everyone before they left to refill their water skins; the dense amount of tall trees dispersed the further Arthur walked west towards Camelot, which would make their ride easier to navigate.

After half an hour of walking, investigating and thinking about everything he had seen earlier – the events were still replaying inside his head - Arthur returned to his settlement, which had now acquired a roaring fire and two large logs to act as seats. The others had already brought out some fruit to snack on while they waited for Merlin to rest.

"So... what were you going to tell us earlier?" Gwaine said, gently biting into an apple he'd brought with him for the rescue mission.

Arthur looked over at Merlin's innocent, sleeping position, and he wondered whether he should tell the Knights such a big secret without gaining Merlin's consent. It was his secret after all – if he wanted to tell everyone, he would have done.

He made his decision. "It's nothing," Arthur said bluntly.

"But, you made it sound so important earlier?" Leon stated.

"You said it went against everything Camelot stood for?" Elyan added.

"And you told us not to think of Merlin any differently?" Percival said.

Gwaine just stared at Arthur, taking in everything. Then, he dropped his apple, leaving it to become filthy in the soil. Arthur gave him a knowing look, realising Gwaine had worked it out: Gwaine would never drop an apple – his favourite food in the entire known world – unless it was something as shocking as... magic.

Then, a gentle smile crept up the Knights' face. "I knew it," he mumbled as he looked over to see Merlin tremble underneath the blanket. Arthur thought that maybe Merlin hadn't gotten warm enough from the fire yet, and returned to smile back at Gwaine. He knew he would understand.

Suddenly, Merlin's shivers turned violent. "No..." he whispered incoherently to himself. "_No!_"

Arthur and Gwaine removed their shared smiles and raced over to Merlin, who was sweating and shaking underneath his blanket. In fact, his movements had been begun to become so violent that some of his wounds had reopened, as darkening shades of red began to seep into the blanket.

"Merlin, please, wake up!" Gwaine begged, leaning over Merlin's erratic state.

"No, no, no, not the blades, NO!" Merlin hollered breathlessly.

"I think he's having a nightmare," Elyan said, furiously trying to keep Merlin's legs from leaving the floor as the man struggled inside his own mind. "Percy, I can't keep his legs still!"

Percival moved from restraining Merlin's slashed arms to stand beside Elyan, keeping Merlin's legs down much better than Elyan could. They swapped positions, as Elyan moved to grab Merlin's arms and pin them behind his back, and had much better control.

Arthur, meanwhile, had taken on the most painful position: calming Merlin down.

"Please, Mordred..." Merlin continued.

"It's okay, Merlin, you're here with me and the Knights. We're not going to let anything happen to you, I promise," Arthur said, stroking Merlin's messy black hair. It felt dirty, sweaty and matted, but Arthur had to do it. It was one of the few relaxation methods Gaius had taught him as a child whenever his father had gotten sick and Arthur wanted to help. Pain broke Arthur's heart as he witnessed Merlin confront some of the darkest memories inside his own dreams. Well, nightmares, really.

Merlin's body calmed at the words, and Gwaine urged Arthur continue, giving a pleading stare as Merlin continued to writhe in pain.

"It's just a nightmare, Merlin. Open your eyes, please. We're all here for you."

Merlin's body stopped convulsing, and the Knights all relaxed when they knew they could let go: Percival released Merlin's legs; Elyan could unpin Merlin's arms behind his back; Gwaine and Leon could let go of their grip around Merlin's waist and chest, but Arthur never stopped stroking Merlin's hair until his eyes opened, revealing his frightened blue irises.

"Arthur?" Merlin croaked, hoarse from screaming.

"It's okay Merlin, you're safe," Arthur said, relieved, sitting Merlin up.

Merlin's lower lip trembled, and he clasped his head as everything dawned on him. "I-I was there... I was in the... in the castle again and Mor-Mordred was there and h-he had the blades again-"

"Hey, it's okay, it was just a dream..." Arthur trailed, tears nearly welling in his eyes at the thought that simple blades could inflict such horrible damage to Merlin. His friend had to endure levels of torture which seemed unreal to Arthur.

This whole ordeal seemed unreal.

"Are you feeling better?"

Merlin paused, fumbling for the right words. "Yeah, I'm fine," was all he could reply with, but he wasn't really.

"Is it okay if I tell them? About your..." Arthur leaned in: "Magic?"

Merlin looked at him, then looked back at Elyan, Gwaine, Percival and Leon, who were all wearing concerned expressions after witnessing Merlin undergo a terrifying nightmare. They knew he'd go through many more, possibly for years to come.

"Yes, it's okay... they need to know," Merlin said. "But... I want to tell them."

Arthur understood: this was Merlin's secret to tell, not his. If Merlin needed any help with anything, such as stubborn Knights who didn't see reason to Merlin's explanation, then Arthur would step in. "Okay then."

So it was in that moment, that Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, helped pull up his best friend and manservant, Merlin, the man who had endured almost a week of starvation and painful torture under the influence of magic, and aided him in his limped walk over towards the crackling fire that had been light by the Knights of Camelot, and set him up for one of the biggest moments in Camelot's history.

"Guys, I have something to tell you," Merlin started, clearing his throat. Once he knew he held every man's attention, he began again: "I have magic."

* * *

**There. It's done. Thought I'd leave you with a small cliff-hanger: the magic reveal! This isn't one of my best chapters, but I haven't really been writing much for a while. I hope it's up to standard, though.**

**Feel free to review and stuff!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the long wait again. I'm now in my final year of secondary school, so I have to revise a lot – plus tumblr is a huge distraction. I'll try to update as often as I can, but I do have other story commitments now – because I have too many ideas to leave alone. I hope you guys like the next chapter!**

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Merlin belongs to the BBC.**

* * *

It was out in the open now. The words Merlin had uttered but a few seconds ago were now lingering in the air, hovering over everyone's minds until Merlin could find the courage to continue; there really was no turning back now. The fire continued to crackle and spit embers up into the cold night sky, and Merlin chose to plough on through the story of his entire life.

"I've had it ever since I was born. My mother told me that I could move things before I could walk or talk properly and that I had always been different from everyone she had ever knew," Merlin started as everyone's eyes kept glued to his own. He wondered whether they were trying to imagine how his delicate, warm blue eyes could ever become pure gold laced with fire and power, much like the flames that were flickering in the centre of the camp.

"When I was younger, I accidently revealed my magic to my best friend, Will. If anything it was a good accident: before we were friends, I had always known that Will was a magnet for trouble and that he would never change. He'd been dared by one of the other boys in the village to climb to the top of the tallest tree, and the every child in the village turned up to the event. I watched him climb with ease until he reached the tip of the last branch, losing all fear inside me that he would fall. He was shouting and cheering that he had done it and that he was the bravest boy in the village. Everyone else had left to tell their parents about it, but I stayed to watch Will to come down, to congratulate him personally.

"That was when he fell. I still remember the feeling of fear course through my veins as my magic took over instinctively. I slowed down his fall just long enough for me to run and catch him. He was dumbfounded when I told him, and I feared he would tell everyone else and that he thought that I was a freak. He didn't. Instead, we played together every day, only using my magic when it was just the two of us. We had the best fun, and losing him was one of the hardest things I have ever had to face, especially since it was to save me from everyone knowing about my magic."

Merlin took a deep breath before continuing, feeling something large block his throat as tears sprung from the surface of his eyes.

"My mother sent me to Camelot years ago, hoping that I would grow up a little bit and learn more about the world, learn how to use my magic properly. Gaius taught me not only how to become a physician, but also how to improve my magic. He was desperate for me to know how to control my powers; for fear that I might be executed.

"I have used my powers many times to save you, Arthur," Merlin said, nodding his head in Arthur's direction as the night wore on.

Arthur looked at Merlin, an epiphany striking on his expression that told Merlin to continue onward.

"I first used it to save your life when the old woman attacked you during Uther's celebration at his banishment of magic, in one of the first times I ever met you. Mary, she was, had cast a spell upon the court that made everyone fall asleep. I was the only one who realised what she was up to, and covered my ears to stop the enchantment from affecting me. I broke the chain off the wooden chandelier above her as she stepped closer which broke her enchantment on the court and the one she had placed upon herself that changed the way she appeared. Yet, she hadn't finished: she threw her dagger in her last breath. Panicking, I slowed down time just long enough to knock Arthur out of the way. That was when Uther promoted me as Arthur's manservant."

"I remember that day," Arthur interjected nonchalantly. "How many other times had you used magic to save me?"

His calm demeanour didn't surprise Merlin now – Merlin could still remember Arthur telling him that he didn't think any different of him just before they rode away from the castle but a few hours ago. Merlin let a smile grip his face before he continued.

"Countless times. There was the time where you had been bitten by the Questing Beast and I had to defeat Nimueh – A Priestess of the Old Religion – in order to not only save you, but my mother and Gaius. There was the time when the Great Dragon, also known as Kilgharrah, tried to destroy Camelot in his revenge against his entrapment by Uther. Before we had set out to search for the Last Dragonlord, I had learnt that the man in question, Balinor, was in fact my father. He'd abandoned my mother in the hope that she would be safe from Uther, not knowing she was carrying me. When he died he..." Merlin stopped, choking on tears. Arthur looked cautiously. "He transferred his powers to me. I was able to control Kilgharrah and stop him from destroying the kingdom.

"I have thwarted Morgana more times than I care to remember; I saved Gwen from execution by changing myself into an old man who you all know as Dragoon."

Gwaine snorted in disbelief. "Merlin, that dithery old man was you?"

A small smile crept on Merlin's pained face. "Yes, that old man was me.

"Anyway, if you would like me to continue, I can also say that I was the one who emptied the Cup of Life with the blood within to kill the immortal army Morgana and Morguase concocted, using a sword forged in the dragon's breath to defeat any immortal soldier who Lancelot and I came across; I caused the roof to crumble in the Castle of Idirsholas before the Knights of Medhir could kill us; I defeated the Sofia and Aulfric, the two people who claimed to be attacked by bandits. They were actually Sidhe's who wanted to sacrifice Arthur in order to return to Avalon, but I used their own staff against them," Merlin continued.

"Have you seriously saved me for all this time? Even when I was, what you would call, an 'arrogant dollop head'," Arthur said, trying to lighten the mood up as Merlin's face contorted into a pained frown again.

"And more times," Merlin said, slightly wincing as the pain of his wounds returned to him. "The Great Dragon has spoken of your destiny, Arthur," Merlin said. "He has said that you will life the hold on magic that has out casted so many people for over twenty years, and that, in this notion, the land of Albion will be united under your rule. Peace between everyone will be upheld, and it shall be the greatest land anyone will ever know.

"He has referred to us as 'two sides of the same coin', and that our destinies will always be bound: me as the protector of both you and Albion and you as the keeper and ruler of Albion."

"Is this why you never refused to leave me when something dangerous arose in the kingdom?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded, almost immediately regretting it as his vision blurred slightly.

"I'm sorry I'm not who you all think I am," Merlin said, dipping his head. "I've killed many people for something I wasn't sure was going to happen. I poisoned Morgana years ago just to stop Camelot from falling. I didn't think about the repercussions my betrayal to her may bring, and I've been so guilty ever since," Merlin said with a light quiver in his voice. Arthur knew it wasn't just the cold that made Merlin shiver.

"It's okay, Merlin, you were doing it for the good of Camelot."

Merlin shook his head slightly. "It still doesn't make it right." The warlock looked up at the group of knights who had all been focusing intently on what Merlin had just told them.

"Merlin, we've all done things which weren't right in the past. I think we can make an exception for you since you saved all our backsides," Gwaine added, earning himself a light smile from Merlin.

"Thanks Gwaine."

"We accept you no matter what," Elyan said.

"You've proven to us that you're just a brave as a knight. Now we see you have fought just as much as us," Leon interjected. Merlin was most surprised by Leon, who had been brought up probably the strictest, next to Arthur, as to how magic in Camelot was evil.

"I don't think any of us could look differently at you, Merlin," Percival finished.

Merlin then flickered his gaze towards Arthur, who answered every question Merlin was burning to ask just by giving the most accepting smile Merlin had ever seen in his entire life.

* * *

The sun had set hours ago, making their trek almost impossible. They were both blind whilst trying to carry their injuries though the dark, entwining forest. Their languid movements were causing Morgana's temper to show, as she grunted with every step they took. Mordred was beginning to get edgy at Morgana's irritating behaviour, all because of his injuries; they weren't his fault, and he understood that Morgana was becoming desperate to finally stop Merlin – or Emrys – from reaching the safety of Camelot.

There was too much at stake to let slip through their fingers: Arthur would no doubt let Merlin become a part of something greater in Camelot, something recognisable and good. Both he and Morgana knew Merlin would become Camelot's favoured sorcerer, and Arthur would lift the heavy air the ban on magic had brought to the kingdom. They would both be forgotten, worthless, just other sorcerers who failed in turning Camelot into their own. They would not be able to exact revenge on the injustice that had been brought upon them and Arthur would win. Emrys would win and the kingdom could never be Morgana's to rule.

Morgana gripped Mordred's waist tightly, causing the young man to wince slightly as her hands dug into the bruises left behind by the monstrous vines Merlin had somehow managed to sprout from the ground. His face twisted together, and he was glad his hood had been covering the site so Morgana could not see how weak he was. As much as it hurt, he could never let Morgana lose her prize – their prize – all because Mordred couldn't go on. She needed him, even in such a state as his.

Then, their feet felt pushed, as if something hard had bulged from the surface of the earth. Yet, it wasn't tough and hard like a tree root or a thick stick; it was squishy like mud which had only half dried.

Morgana looked down at the ground, trying to squint her eyes to get a better look at the ground. "_Leoht_," she commanded hastily, pulling Mordred in closer to her in case he slipped. She lifted her free hand, feeling a light wind freeze the tips of her fingers, even as the ball of light illuminated the pale complexion of her hand with the promise of false warmth.

"Look Morgana," Mordred pointed out. "There are about five pairs of horse tracks, maybe even another horse."

"Are you sure?" Morgana questioned, turning to face her injured comrade.

"No, I'm sure of it, and they're all headed towards Camelot," he observed, blocking the pain radiating throughout his body.

The witch flicked her hand, sending the ball of light away. "Let's hurry, then. They must have stopped to camp, especially if Merlin is injured," Morgana said, spitting Merlin's name in hatred.

With that, Morgana pulled Mordred along the pathway, feeling the rigid earth beneath them squish under the soles of their shoes. Mordred limped silently, scrunched features hidden again by his hooded cloak, while Morgana directed them through the inky darkness surrounding them.

"Have you got the vial I gave you?" Morgana questioned, her voice rattling with impatience.

"Of course I have," Mordred reassured, double checking by flying his hand to his side. Inside a leather bound pouch lay a small glass vial, holding a liquid dark in nature. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, but, if Morgana had entrusted him to send this down Merlin's throat, then this vial meant the difference between them winning the battle they had been fighting for, or losing everything.

* * *

Arthur couldn't stop smiling at the news that had reached his ears. After all this time, all the years of Arthur trying to fathom Merlin's secretive and protective nature had been answered. Merlin had been using magic to aid Arthur through everything, but Arthur found himself accepting it. He supposed that over the years, he'd seen a different side to magic than Uther had taught him: he'd met people who were innocent in their use of magic, who only ever wanted to help people, and he knew that magic users were just like warriors, except magic was their sword.

It helped Arthur understand the more mysterious aspects of his best friend too. In any battle, patrol, hunt or quest Merlin had accompanied with him, he'd always come out with no injuries. There had been a few incidents, such as a minor cut to the arm and an almost fatal blow to the chest recently, but Merlin had always recovered. Now, Arthur realised it hadn't been because he'd been cowering behind the trees, it had been because he had a weapon more powerful than any manmade object. It was completely instinctual, and it seemed Merlin held a lot more responsibility than just being his manservant.

Merlin had never been evil, either. Arthur had only ever seen Merlin commit acts of loyalty and kindness, something that came so rare in people that Arthur met. He'd witnessed power beyond anything that he could barely comprehend in a man, let alone Merlin, but it had been to protect Arthur and the knights from Morgana's threat. He'd been injured too, something that Arthur was beginning to notice more often during the night.

"Merlin, are you feeling okay?" Gwaine asked, noticing how pale Merlin had suddenly grown.

"Yeah... I'm fine," Merlin murmured just loud enough for the group to hear. Arthur was the only person close enough to hear his friend groan out of pain slightly, and Arthur grew more and more concerned. He knew Merlin was badly injured – he'd witnessed Mordred stab Merlin in the back, hard – and that he should probably rest before the journey in the morning, but he wanted Merlin to tell his story.

Then, terror shock Arthur's body as Merlin went limp next to him. The blanket that had been wrapped around his friend was stained dark red from where his back had been damaged, cold sweat building on his skin.

"Merlin! Merlin, can you hear me?" Arthur called as Merlin winced only slightly when Arthur moved him to the ground.

"Merlin?" Gwaine said, panic setting in.

"Turn him on his front," Leon instructed, already grabbing Merlin's torso to turn. Arthur and Gwaine aided him, looking in horror as the wound in Merlin's back bled profusely.

"I'm not a physician," Gwaine started, his eyes glued to stain on Merlin's top. "But I think his wound is infected."

Arthur gasped, realisation spreading through. "We didn't clean his wound properly. Even a change of clothing could have prevented this," Arthur exclaimed, rubbing his thumbs over the dirty, soiled shirt which would have caused the infection. "I completely forgot-"

"Hey," Leon interjected. "Do not blame yourself for this, we should have all remembered something so basic," he said, guilt apparent in his expression.

Arthur gave in and nodded. "Okay, but we need to clean them before anything changes," he decided. "Gwaine, could you fetch your water skin for me, please?"

"No need to even ask, princess," he said, heading for his belongings.

"Leon, I need something clean we can use to wipe Merlin's wound and another piece of clothe to keep his fever down," he continued to instruct. He rested the back of his hand against Merlin's cheek, which felt as hot as the flames that fed them light and warmth in the middle of the campfire.

_He shouldn't be that hot_, Arthur thought to himself darkly.

Within a few minutes, Gwaine had retrieved his water skin and Leon had provided the material needed to keep Merlin cool and clean. Even Elyan and Percival had rushed in cleaning their dinner bowls so Gwaine could have somewhere to pour his water in, fetching their own water skins if Gwaine ran out.

Arthur and Leon prepared the material by tearing strips off the spare blanket they carried before placing them on top of Arthur's makeshift pillow. It was far cleaner than the muddy leaves of the ground.

"Percival, can you turn Merlin to his side," Arthur said, piling his first strip of blanket into the bowl of water. Percival placed his hands on Merlin's waist, pushing the warlock's frail body to its side. It was hard to imagine such ferocious power could come from someone so ill, as Merlin trembled and shivered in his sleep.

"Gwaine, I need you to keep Merlin's fever down, can you do that?" Arthur asked, his eyes pleading for Merlin to be okay.

"Of course I can," Gwaine said as Leon passed him a strip of blanket.

As Gwaine patted his wet blanket on Merlin's forehead, Arthur got to work on the most horrific sight: Merlin's wound. It was still bleeding, turning his first blanket strip crimson red as Arthur went in to clean the infection. The King felt physically sick as the blanket went in deeper to clear the infection, Arthur's own hands becoming tinged with blood.

Within minutes his strip of blanket was completely covered in sticky blood, so Leon quickly prepared another strip. Meanwhile, Arthur snagged his own water skin from his belt, quickly washing the blood off. He didn't want his own hands to be responsible for any secondary infection.

Leon had compiled an extra blanket, quickly learning Merlin had accumulated a badly bleeding wound. Arthur was grateful, as it proved far better than using just one blanket. After a while, Arthur had started noticing a difference as Merlin's back started to bleed much less than half an hour ago, and Gwaine's work with his fever had proved to help the young man from shivering so much.

Percival had found a spare shirt inside his bag whilst Elyan and Leon had started turning leftover strips of blanket into makeshift bandages for his wound.

"You don't have anything to fear, Merlin," Arthur said, finishing his last blanket strip. "You have friends here who would never treat you any different, magic or no magic. I know you've lived in fear from what they might do to you if they ever thought you had magic, but they would never treat you differently, me especially. I don't know what it must have been, serving the royal family whilst having such power, but you did it well. You made yourself look convincingly stupid enough to stop me from believing you could do anything other than fail at serving.

"But I swear, Merlin, you don't have to hide anymore. I'll talk to the councillors, and we'll reach an agreement. I promise you that one day I will lift the ban on magic, knowing that you and others like you can be free. I've known for a few years that not all magic was evil... I just never had the trigger to change anything. I promise that something will change – something good – but you _must_ get better for me to do so. Please, Merlin... please get better."

"Wow," a voice sneered from the corner of the campfire. "I never knew you could care so much about a simple servant, a _magical_ servant at that. If it had been me exclaiming that I had magic you would have sent me to the block."

"Maybe if you thought for a bit, maybe if you realised I cared for you, you would have known I would never had allowed you to be sent," Arthur replied to the darkness, knowing the voice too well. He looked at Gwaine, who had removed his hand from the flannel to the hilt of his sword.

"Really?" Morgana said, emerging from the shadows, alone.

"Yes, really," Arthur answered, turning his back to Merlin to face the face of his half sister. "You were like a sister to me, even though I never knew who you truly were. I would have protected you from Uther," Arthur continued, earning a sneer from Morgana.

"I highly doubt that," she said snidely.

"I would have helped you, at least," Arthur said.

Morgana glared, her eyes like daggers. "Do you think you could have helped better than Merlin did? He certainly looked like he was helping me, telling me where the Druids were in hope I could learn how to control my magic, only to find months later that he had poisoned me," the witch snapped. At this point, every knight had circled Morgana with their swords drawn, all except Arthur. None of the group noticed the small body behind Merlin, crouched, poised, ready to pop the lid of the glass vial filled extremely dark green liquid.

"I hope his death is slow and painful," Morgana taunted, averting her gaze to Mordred who had quietly removed the lid off the vial behind the tree and was now slipping the liquid into Merlin's trembling lips.

Arthur was confused, too slow to work out what Morgana meant until Elyan, who had been blocked by Morgan's body, caught a glimpse of Mordred behind Arthur and Gwaine.

"Arthur! Behind you!" He shouted, drawing Morgana's attention.

It was too late: in a matter of seconds, Morgana had thrown both Elyan's and Percival's bodies into the trees behind them as Mordred thrust the concoction into Merlin's throat. Gwaine tried to smash Mordred's body against the tree before he could let Merlin swallow, but he was too slow. Leon had tried to thrust his sword into Morgana's side, only to be met with a swift blow of ice-cold wind to the side of his body, sending him flying behind the fire with Elyan and Percival.

Arthur knelt down to Merlin, shaking his shoulders. "Merlin!" He shouted, a growing sense of fear in the pit of his stomach. "Merlin, please, wake up!" Arthur begged, tears brimming his eyes.

"An eye for an eye," Morgana crooned behind Arthur's shaking body. "Poison for poison."

_No, Merlin. You can't die._

* * *

**Yes, I'm sorry. I left you with a raging cliff hanger after taking two months to upload. I'm sorry! I'll try to update sooner.**

**But Series 5! I love it... It's definitely reached a new level of awesomeness and I love how dark it is. I just don't want to be left an emotional wreck after it all, haha...**

**Once again, I'll try and update sooner.**

**Reviews are much appreciated!**


End file.
